


Hex: Forever Bound

by DiamondDustOhSnap



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Feels, Female Ejaculation, Fluff, HighSpecs, I just had to, Ignea, Ignis is very giving, M/M, Mystery, Older Ignis, Oral Sex, Pining, Promptis - Freeform, Promptis from chapter 5, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut from chapter 13, Time Travel, Younger Aranea, ass licking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondDustOhSnap/pseuds/DiamondDustOhSnap
Summary: Several weeks after the return of the sun, Ignis wakes up alone in the middle of a snowy field. His memory is hazy and his vision mysteriously restored, but most confusing of all is the time: he is 18 years in the past. As he attempts to find his way home, he gets help from an unexpected companion—a 22-year-old Aranea Highwind.It's HighSpecs, with Promptis from chapter 6 on.





	1. Seeing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After finishing At the Edge of the World, I really missed having a multi-chapter fic to sink my teeth into. After a few weeks of mulling over the right story and some false starts, this one came to me fast and sudden. Before I knew it, I had over 12,000 words written (and that’s just the first three chapters). 
> 
> It’s first and foremost a HighSpecs story. Then, a time travel story. And several chapters in, a Promptis story as well, which I got inspired to write after Prompto’s DLC. 
> 
> And finally, here's the song that inspired the title: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyMMYqMb8t0
> 
> As always, reviews and kudos are always appreciated, but more than anything, I hope you enjoy this!

The sky was expansive and white. It was like a large dome, starting at one end above the tree line and reaching up and across to the other side, stopping at the faraway peaks of mountains. Ignis blinked a few times and slowly turned his head from left to right, taking in the vastness above him and trying to make sense of it.

Where was he?

His hands curled into fists over what felt like snow. He started to shiver, though he wasn't entirely sure it was only from the cold. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly, as if waking from a very long sleep. He couldn't remember a thing.

Getting onto his feet—which were more than a little shaky—he surveyed his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a valley of snow, and trees lined the horizon in every direction. He was not in Lucis, that much he was certain of. Feeling foggy and bewildered, he picked a random direction and started walking. It may not have been the best planned route, but it was still better than freezing in one place.

As he walked, Ignis fought hard to gather some fragment of memory. He had been in Lucis, yes. He was with the guys—was that right? It had been sunny.

Wait, the sun. He doesn't remember seeing it, only feeling it…

Ignis stopped dead in his tracks and took a sharp breath in. His shaking fingers lifted up toward his eyes. He looked at them, then touched the skin around his left eye. The scarred skin, usually smooth valleys and ridges, was gone. His tongue traced his lower lip, the familiar scar missing from there too. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, and the world remained in view.

He could see.

Falling to his knees, Ignis breathed in and out heavily. Was this some sort of miracle? A gift of the Gods after his—

After his sacrifice. Their sacrifice. Noctis' sacrifice.

The sun—that's why he remembered feeling it. Noctis had brought it back.

The memories and pain came back, hitting him in the chest and winding him like a charging behemoth. Noctis had been gone only a few weeks, and Ignis still felt the sting of it like he was only just discovering the King's slumped body in the throne room, hands feeling for his pulse, any last bit of hope disappearing into the cavernous space in a pained cry.

Distraught and more confused than ever, Ignis forced himself back on his feet. He knew he had to keep moving; the answers weren't going to be found in this frozen tundra.

Still, every step was difficult. His legs felt heavy and his head remained in a fog. Step, step, step, he told himself, finding some solace in the rhythm of his internal instructions. Finally, after about an hour of walking, Ignis came across the first sign of inhabitance: a modest house off in the distance, with smoke coming from the chimney.

Good, he thought.

As he stumbled through the snow toward respite, he wondered what he would say. That he woke up in the middle of a valley and had no idea how he had gotten there? That he had been blind for over 10 years but could now see? He was starting to sound crazy, even to himself. He resolved to hoping for a hospitable and open-minded host as he went up to the nondescript door and knocked. After a moment, a hesitant and muffled voice spoke.

"Who is it?"

"A traveler, in need of aid," he responded.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

Ignis hadn't even considered this, but upon a quick check, he realized he indeed had none.

"I do not," he said. "Please, I intend you no harm. I'm afraid I'm lost and it's quite cold…"

He heard the lock unlatch, and a young woman opened the door. She was dressed plainly and looked about a decade younger than his 32 years (good, he still remembered his age). She ran her eyes over him, somehow decided that he was trustworthy enough, and allowed him inside.

—

Ignis stared into the embers burning in the fireplace, fighting the fogginess that prevailed in his head. The young woman had introduced herself as Neely and explained that she lived here with her baby, who was asleep in another room. Something about her tone told Ignis to not so much as consider setting foot in there. He had no intention to.

As Ignis settled under a warm blanket with a cup of coffee in hand—by some grace of the Gods, she had Ebony—he started feeling well enough to ask a few questions.

"Where am I?" he said. It seemed as good a place to start as any.

"About two hour's drive from Gralea," she answered.

Gralea? But how?

"And how is it that you've managed to survive out here all on your own?" Ignis asked. Surely, a woman and baby would have been easy targets for the daemons before Noctis vanquished the Scourge.

"Well, I've always lived here. I'm used to it, I suppose. My husband lives here too, of course, but he's away because of the war."

"War?"

"Yes, the war. He's a soldier."

Ignis shut his eyes, trying to get his facts straight. There had been no war for years, as everyone banded together to survive. Lucis, Accordo, Niflheim—the weight of those names ceased to exist the moment they had to survive in a post-apocalyptic world.

"I mean, he's only just training right now," Neely continued. "I sure hope he doesn't get deployed to Lucis or anything. It's been more than a little lonely without him here."

"Lucis?"

Ignis looked at the woman again, noticing her clothes for the first time. She may have been dressed plainly, but she was also a little dated. The fluted sleeve of her top, the particular shade of blue she wore—he could swear he remembered girls liking that style back in high school. He wasn't ever much interested in trends (classic cuts and colors always had better longevity), but he recalled how that blue made him think of the blue of Noctis' eyes. He had even joked that girls liked the color because of it.

"What year is it?" Ignis asked, almost in disbelief at his own question.

Neely scrunched her nose as she considered this query, finding it most curious.

"748," she replied.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, of course!" she responded with a laugh. "Lady Lunafreya has just ascended to Oracle," she added, as if that was supposed to provide some necessary context.

"748…" Ignis whispered under his breath.

But his year was 766, the Year of the Dawn—18 years ahead.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Neely said. "You look white as a ghost."

Could he be? Was he dead? Ignis' head spun with questions, but he could no longer process everything that was happening. Perhaps he could fall asleep and wake back up in a world that made sense to him. By the Gods, he was almost hoping to wake up to no sight; that was a world he understood.

Not this one.

—

Instead of the comforting wrap of darkness, Ignis woke to dust particles dancing through faint sunlight in the guest room of the cabin. He could hear breakfast being made, and a soft singing coming from the other room.

 _Far away and long ago_  
_We made a promise that we'd go_  
_Where no one else can find us, oh_  
_So far away and long ago_

Ignis recognized the song as a popular tune from Gralea back in his youth. It was frowned upon to listen to, but it was catchy, so the kids did it anyway. The adults couldn't be bothered to censor it—the lyrics were innocent enough, after all.

And now that he thought about it, it was a hit song in the year 748. Not that Ignis thought Neely would be lying to him—she had one of those faces that betrayed every emotion, from her suspicion at his arrival to her eager smile as she presented him with dinner—but it was always preferable to have other forms of confirmation when faced with a very strange and very real occurrence of time travel.

Ignis stood up from the bed, noticing that his clothes had been washed and neatly folded in a pile and set upon a chair in the small room. A rectangular paper folded in half lay on top of it. He was about to pick it up when he heard a scream—a baby's cry, coming from the other room. He instinctually knew it was one that signaled hunger, but nothing more serious than that.

And then he realized what the folded paper was.

It was a family photo: him, Aranea, and their daughter Lucie. It seemed shocking to Ignis that his mind was in such a state that he hadn't thought of Lucie or Aranea since he had woken up. But now, this part of his life was becoming clear as day and the love and longing he felt for his family washed over him.

He also realized another thing: he hadn't actually ever seen his daughter, nor Aranea since they first met. It was tempting to look at the photo, to unfold it and reveal the true details of his daughter's face. But instead, Ignis got dressed and placed the folded photo securely in his jacket pocket, ensuring he didn't get an accidental peak.

What he truly needed right now was information on how to get to Lucis, the only place he could think of that might hold some answers. If nothing else, he could find King Regis and explain his predicament. If anyone had the power to bend time back into place, it would be him.

Stepping out of the guest room, Ignis was greeted by the smells of something delicious being fried as he stepped into the open-concept living room and kitchen. Neely held her baby in one arm, and stirred something in a pan with the other.

"Would you like a hand?" Ignis asked.

"Oh! You're awake. Yes, please, if you don't mind."

Neely walked over and quickly placed her child in Ignis' arms, much to his surprise. Apparently, she had very much decided to trust him. He held the baby—a little girl, by the looks of her clothes—and bounced her up and down, fiercely missing the weight of his own daughter.

"I figured I ought to cook something hardy, in case you were planning to head out today," Neely said. It was not so much a suggestion as a request, but a kind one.

"Yes. I should be carrying on," Ignis replied.

"My cousin is heading to Gralea today. I asked him to come by and give you a ride. I'm not sure why you're as lost as you are, but it's always easier to find answers in a big city than in the middle of nowhere."

"Yes. Thank you very much for arranging the ride."

"Don't sweat it. Let me know if you have any questions in the meantime."

"Certainly. I do have one, as a matter of fact." Ignis chose his words carefully. "I take it the borders are all shut down?"

"Of course they are. No one is getting in and out of Gralea without special papers," Neely said. "But why in the world would you want to?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Besides, judging from your accent, you're from Tenebrae, aren't you?"

Ignis only nodded. He had been, a long time ago, but he was first and foremost a Lucian—no doubt a disposition punishable by death in Gralea at this time. Today, he was especially thankful for his accent.

—

The ride to Gralea was uneventful, full of rather pleasant snow-capped mountains and the odd village. What did astound Ignis, however, was their approach to the industrial city. He had never actually seen it, his last and only visit being to Zegnautus Keep when Noctis disappeared into the crystal. Seeing it now, with his own eyes, was a far different story.

The snow seemed to melt from the sheer heat of the city as they approached, looming large and imposing on the horizon. It lacked the grandeur of Insomnia, but made up for it in sheer will, as if all the buildings were clamoring to stay alive and outgrow one another. The sky was still white, and the structures presented in all shades of gray and brown against the stark backdrop. It wasn't pretty, but it certainly knew how to make an impression.

Ignis parted ways with Neely's cousin, who had thankfully been a man of few words, in front of the train station. Luckily, Neely had been willing to part with an old black woolen coat of her husband's, which Ignis now wore. He made a mental note to somehow repay her one day, even if it meant tracking her down in his own time—provided she survived. The only thing missing were his glasses; his vision was sufficient enough without them, but he felt naked and exposed.

He made his way through the station, looking for any information on catching a train to Lucis and feeling awfully weary of the amount of armed solders and MTs stationed throughout. He knew his odds of hitching a ride were slim, but he was at a loss as to what else he could do. If only he could recall how he ended up here in the first place. Something must have happened.

Ignis found a train schedule at the ticketing building, and sure enough, there were trains heading to Lucis. Well, just one train per week. Below the timetable was a special note: _Authorized personnel only. Valid travel documentation required. All others will be detained and prosecuted._

Thinking back to his own memories of these troubled times, Ignis could recall plenty of stories of Lucians getting stuck in Niflheim and unable to leave because they didn't have the correct documents. They would attempt to sneak on the trains and get captured. The Lucian government would work tirelessly for their release, but often these pour souls would simply disappear, names forgotten in the weekly news cycle.

Ignis wasn't about to become one of them.

No, he needed a better plan, and he also needed a few other things—like money, he realized. How could he even stay at an inn or buy food, much less purchase a ticket to Lucis? Relying on the kindness of strangers seemed reasonable enough in the countryside, but far less so in a city like Gralea.

Giving up on any prospects at the train station, Ignis pushed through the crowd and made his way through narrow and winding streets. It was getting late and he needed shelter. The first viable place he came across was a public library, showing up like a shining beacon of hope on the other side of a busy street. Perhaps he could find some valuable information there and, if nothing else, be pointed in the direction of a shelter. The thought of rubbing shoulders with intellectuals held a certain comfort for Ignis as well, and he would have been lying if the prospect of reading with his own eyes for the first time in a decade wasn't playing a role too.

He entered the large gray building, spectacular rectangular arches framing either side of the large wooden door. Gralea certainly had some architectural gems hidden away in its labyrinthine streets. The woman at the counter nodded to him quietly, and Ignis returned her greeting with a polite smile. He went straight for the rows upon rows of books, getting his bearings.

Hottest Fiction. Geography. Science. Technology. History of Niflheim. History of Eos. War and Strategy. Erotica.

Ignis skipped right past the Hottest Fiction section with a passing thought about how Gladio would enjoy it, and went straight for the Science row. He began searching for any volumes that might allude to time travel, pulling out various books and flipping through several pages, coming up empty, and then replacing it.

He wasn't sure how long he had been going through the aisles, searching like a quietly desperate man in the guise of a calm exterior, but it was starting to get dark outside. He ran his hands through his hair, which was now messier than usual since Neely hardly stocked his pomade of choice.

Nothing. He was finding nothing.

And then.

A light reflected on something on the other side of the shelf he was staring hopelessly at. It was a flash of silver, visible just for an instant before it flitted away. He peered through the top of a row of books, compelled to catch a glimpse of what it was.

The silver thing came back, reflecting the light again, and he realized it was the back of a woman's head. Long silver hair, half of it gathered up into a ponytail and tied together with a black ribbon, the rest flowing down to the middle of her back. She was looking at the book on the opposite shelf, her back to Ignis, but something about the sounds of her shuffling and rhythm felt familiar.

The woman turned around, facing the shelf between her and Ignis now, and Ignis' breath caught in his throat. Though he could only see a sliver between the books (and he had not actually seen her face in 10 years), he did a double take at the shape of those lips.

The lips he would kiss night after night, promising to come back. The lips he would kiss under the sun when he did.

Aranea's lips.

Ignis moved a book out of the way to get a better look at her. It was most definitely Aranea, eyes focused on the pages of a book, brows furrowed as if she were confused, and teeth nibbling on her lower lip. Except she was younger. A lot younger.

22, Ignis realized as he did the math.

Aranea raised her eyes for a moment, suddenly aware that she was being watched, and met his eyes through the bookcase. She quickly darted them away and replaced her book in the gap, blocking Ignis' view as she walked off.

Ignis walked down the aisle, intent on talking to her. He couldn't believe his luck—of all people to find. He hadn't even considered seeking her out, her past connections with Niflheim a distant memory. But here she was.

He watched her walk away from the bookshelves toward a collection of long wooden tables in the middle of the room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her join a group of young men and women her age, all studying. She plopped down in a chair next to a dark-haired young man, and quickly peered over her shoulder at him, then lay her arm on the dark-haired man's chair—as if to say, sorry, I'm taken bud.

The realization hit Ignis like an ice cold bucket of water in the face. Of course she didn't know who he was. She wouldn't for many years. She was living her life, much like he was living his in Insomnia, oblivious to what they would one day share. And if Ignis knew anything about the rules of time travel, you don't mess with the past.

Ignis took a few steps back and leaned against the bookshelf. His hands curled into fists, but he vowed to stay strong. To stay silent. He willed himself—no, forced himself—to focus on the books, pick up a stack, and take the stairs to the second floor to get as far away from Aranea as possible.

Still, when he settled at a table on the second floor, he was strategically positioned so that he could ever so slightly look over the railing of the balcony and see her silver hair catching the light.

—

Ignis spent the next hour flipping through books and watching Aranea from the corner of his eye. She seemed a bit flirtatious with the dark-haired man, certainly too much for his liking, but there was nothing to be done about this. Instead, he tried to concentrate on his reading while his emotions played a dangerous game underneath, threatening to break him.

He missed his wife. He missed his daughter. His missed the world he had built with them, one that was finally returned to the light. He ached to hold them in his arms, and seeing Aranea here only made it more difficult.

It was alarming how similar she was in many ways, and how different she seemed in others. Her gestures, her voice, they were very much the same. Yes, she looked younger and had the slender figure of a woman still in the earlier stages of owning her womanhood, but she remained instantly recognizable to Ignis, despite his memories of her constructed mostly by hands and sounds and tastes.

But she also seemed so much less assured of herself. Her body language belied a certain lack of confidence underneath. She didn't walk around like she owned the place, and she didn't meet people's eyes like she was always challenging them. At one point, Ignis even caught her twirling her hair—a very uncharacteristic gesture indeed.

Oh, but she was beautiful nonetheless. The novelty of seeing her was not lost on Ignis. He wanted to grab her and lay her bare, take a good close look at every tiny detail of her skin. He wanted to wrap himself around her, breathe in her familiar scent, and fall asleep with his face buried in her hair.

He would wake up the next day in his actual bed, holding his own beautiful Aranea, and this would be nothing more than a strange dream. They would have the quietest rowdy sex so as not to wake Lucie and then cook breakfast together, Ignis shaping the pancakes into surprisingly perfect hearts. Aranea would sneak a kiss or two on his shoulder, the highest she could reach when barefoot. Lucie would set the table and say "Love you too, daddy!" when he'd place the pancakes on her plate. They would plan the rest of their day to be out in the sun.

Ignis was snapped out of his reverie as he noticed Aranea and her group standing and packing up their study materials. They all wore similar uniforms, he noted, most likely military academy ones by the look of it. She would be in her last year of training, studying for those written exams she always told him she barely passed—by some miracle or divine intervention, she liked to say.

Ignis wanted to run after her as she headed toward the exit, but he remained firmly planted, looking like nothing more than a placid man with a bad habit of staring at younger women. Once she was out of sight, he turned his attention back to his books, intent on distraction.

He flipped through the pages, barely absorbing a word, till one finally caught his eye.

_Crystal._

More specifically, the Crystal Shard: A piece of the Crystal that is removed from the rest to be used as an extension of its powers. However, no ordinary weapon will do; only the Ring of the Lucii is capable of cutting off a piece. There have been few known Shards in history, and they are almost impossible to trace. If they do exist, they are expected to be well-protected by their owner, likely having been entrusted to them by the ring-bearer. Some wonder if any Shards are actually in existence anymore.

Well, thought Ignis, I happened to have one.

He and Aranea had found it in Steyliff Grove just before Noctis' return. Upon Ignis accidentally touching it, it did in fact create a strange time loop for a moment, but it was short-lived and seemingly harmless. Afterwards, Ignis and Aranea carefully took the Shard back to Lestallum, where it stayed till after Noctis brought back the light.

And then…

And then?

Ignis couldn't recall. His mind was going back into that hazy state that he was in the moment he awoke in the snow. What was his mind hiding from him?

"Excuse me, sir," a voice said from behind.

Ignis turned around to see a librarian standing there awkwardly.

"We're closing now," she said, tapping her watch.

"Apologies," Ignis said, and stood up, stacking the books for the librarian and handing them over.

He nodded and wordlessly moved past her, seemingly making his way toward the exit. Just as he turned a corner, he slipped down a darkened hallway and found a suitable place to hide until the librarians left. He would stay overnight, researching what more he could and getting some rest, then think about his next steps in the morning.

Of course, Ignis felt a bit dishonest as he lay on a couch in the empty library at 2 am, trying to fall asleep. He wasn't one for breaking and entering (or rather, staying past closing time) but he had little choice.

So he lay there, willing himself to sleep, but instead finding his mind drifting back to the younger Aranea and the way her silver hair curled over her slender shoulders, the way she had met his eyes, and the way her hand lay on the back of someone else's chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Desperate for money, Ignis gets a job. And his boss is… ;)


	2. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis gets a job. Aranea learns a thing or two about pole arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical inspiration: "Strangers" by Jesse Harper and Aoife O'Donovan  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/3OKUJgs3GpNp6MTLuv5PCh

Ignis walked the streets of Gralea again, unsure of where exactly he was headed—but it was better than standing still. Once he had snuck out of his overnight stay at the library, all he could do was pick a random direction and convince himself to move. He was hungry and feeling quite guilt-ridden for eating the small pack of nutritionally-insubstantial sweets he had found in a librarian’s drawer. Worst, he had no money, no clues, and no plan. 

No, he didn’t like this at all. 

Gralea was certainly a city of many different shades, and as Ignis turned a corner, he suddenly had the sneaking suspicion that he was being followed. He increased his pace slightly, but only felt the sounds of footsteps getting closer. He could sense them well without looking, and knew that they were gaining ground and very much intending on it. They were about five of them. Have some soldiers figured out he’s a Lucian? 

Ignis darted around corners and through crowds in an attempt to lose them, but they always seemed just a few steps behind—clearly very adept with the intricacies of navigating this city. He took a wrong path at last, heading down what turned out to be a dead-end alley. He stopped, taking stock. Some metal scrap, a few garbage cans—they would have to do. 

And then the steps stopped right behind him. 

In one fluid motion, Ignis reached down and picked up a long metal bar and the lid of a garbage can, then spun around and met steel in the air as his makeshift weapons collided with a set of knives. 

The men and women facing him were clearly not from the Niflheim infantry. No, they were nothing but common bandits—which meant they were likely scrappy fighters. 

“Hand over your wallet,” said the foul-smelling mouth of the one with the knives. 

“I don’t have one,” Ignis said, but he knew this was fruitless. 

“Liar,” the man snarled and shoved Ignis back on his heels. 

The five bandits pounced on him, and Ignis did his best to fight them off. He had survived iron giants and thousands upon thousands of goblins, but taking on these enemies with a tin lid for a weapon and no allies was a different story. Not to mention that fighting with his sight all of a sudden was throwing him off to the point that he would sometimes close his eyes just to get his bearings. 

Ignis managed a few good hits with his metal bar on the kneecaps of one of the bandits, which only further enraged the others until they had him pinned to the ground. 

“Where’s your wallet?” one of them snarled, hands probing through his pockets. 

“I… told you…” Ignis spat out, “I don’t… have one!” 

“He really doesn’t,” a woman with a shaved head said. 

“What’s this?” the foul-mouth one said as he fished inside Ignis’ jacket. 

He pulled out the photo of Aranea and Lucie, and Ignis immediately filled with rage, an arm coming free with sudden ferocity and punching the foul-mouthed man in the jaw. He went flying, and Ignis scrambled after the photo, but the shaved-headed woman got to it first. 

She looked at the photo, and then at Ignis, and must have seen the silent pleading in his eyes because she tossed the photo at his feet, landing facedown. 

“Nice glasses,” she said, referring to his visors in the picture. “Okay boys, let’s get out of here. This target’s a dud, and we still have a lot to do.” 

She walked down the alley and the others followed suit, leaving Ignis on the soggy ground as he gently cleaned the photo with his coat hem, careful not to catch a glimpse of the faces printed on it. It survived without much damage, but the thought of losing this one precious reminder of his real life filled him with dread. 

He replaced the photo in his pocket and stood up with new resolve. If this is the kind of city he’s found himself in, then he’s going to face it head on. And for that, he’s going to need some real weapons. 

–

It was almost like divine intervention. After a 20-minute walk, Ignis finally came across what looked like a suitable weapons shop, and lo and behold, it even had a sign on the window: Help Wanted. 

Of course, Ignis could have easily stollen everything he needed, be it weapons or food. But, save for the sweets in the library, he was above such things. And without papers to leave Niflheim, he was never going to get very far anyway. Stealing Cup Noodles and daggers was one thing; sneaking past a heavily armed border was a death wish. What he needed were connections, someone who could help smuggle him through, and weapons shops were often places that came with people who knew a thing or two. 

Ignis ran his hands through his hair (far too untidy for his liking) and straightened his coat (a little loose on the shoulders). He hoped his extensive knowledge of weaponry would make up for any physical shortcomings. 

He entered the shop and was greeted to a spectacular sight indeed. Lining the walls from floor to ceiling were weapons and shields of all kinds, all meticulously crafted and lethal. Just imagine what he could have done to those bandits with one of those pole arms, or that ornate but deadly set of daggers. 

“Welcome to Academy Weaponry, how can I help you…” a girl in her early 20s said from the counter at the back without looking up. She was decidedly different from the grandeur of the weapons—sloppy, bored, and hardly an authority on steel. She had her dark hair tied back and was absently flipping through a book while eating an apple. 

“I saw the sign out front, about wanting help,” Ignis said. 

“Oh yeah, that. The pay sucks, the hours are long, and you have to know a lot. Still interested?”

“Yes.”

The girl finally looked up at him, stopped her chewing, and shrugged. 

“Only 10 gil an hour,” she added.

“That will do.” 

“Wow, okay. No one ever agrees to that part. Uh...” She gestured to the walls. “You know how to use any of these?”

“Daggers and pole arms, primarily, but I am proficient in all forms of combat.”

“Here,” the girl said, tossing a dagger at Ignis, which he caught effortlessly. 

He twirled the dagger around in one hand, then presented an open palm for the other. The girl raised an eyebrow and obliged, whipping the dagger at him with breakneck speed, and he caught that as well. He assumed a fighting stance and waited. She remained slouched on the counter, looking bored, but a quick hand tossed her half-eaten apple his way—and Ignis shredded it in the air. The girl’s jaw dropped. 

“Wow.”

Ignis picked up the pieces of apple from the ground and placed what was left of it on the counter in front of the girl, along with the daggers. 

“When shall I start?” 

“I’m sorry, but I gotta ask: Aren’t you a little old to be working at a university weapons shop for minimum wage?”  
Ignis winced at the term. He hadn’t exactly thought of himself as old at 32. “Desperate times, I’m afraid,” he said. 

“Good point. War, am I right? Well, I’m about to be done my shift, so… do you wanna start now?”

“You are to leave me alone in your shop?” 

“HA! No way, dude,” the girl laughed. “My colleague is in the back, finishing her coffee. I’ll let her know we’ve got fresh meat, and she’ll walk you through everything.”

“Sounds good.”

“Cool.” 

The girl disappeared in the back behind a set of swinging doors. Ignis picked up the daggers on the counter again, turning them over in his hands. Oh, how easy it would be to run away with them right now, steal a sandwich from a corner store, and make his way onto a train and a boat, taking his chances with getting caught. If he were lucky, he could be in Insomnia in a few day’s time, and see that the daggers get returned somehow, one day… 

“Okay, she’ll be right out!” the girl said, breezing past Ignis and out the front doors. “Have fun!”

Ignis watched the door, daggers in hand, and took a few steps toward it. He was guilt-ridden at the thought, but it was still better than—

“Are you the new recruit?”

Ignis stopped dead in his tracks. 

That voice. 

He turned around slowly, and there she was, looking at him with narrowed green eyes the color of sea glass found on a beach. Aranea Highwind, staring him down like at the library yesterday. 

“Are you?” she repeated.

“Pardon me?” Ignis said, dumbfounded. 

“Are you the new recruit Jade just told me about?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Good. I’ll get you a t-shirt.”

“A what?”

“For your uniform. Duh.”

Aranea walked back through the swinging doors, and Ignis followed. She was rummaging through a box on a nearby shelf. 

“What size are you? Medium? Large?” she said. 

“Somewhere in between.”

“Medium it is,” she said, rolling her eyes and tossing the t-shirt at him. “You can change in here. I’ll be at the counter when you’re ready.”

She left, and Ignis looked at the t-shirt in his hands. Was this a good idea? What was he getting himself into? He removed his coat, jacket, and shirt, ensuring that his photo was still securely tucked away, and folded everything neatly. He put on the t-shirt—which fit quite well—and looked in a smudge-marked mirror. It was both surprising and normal to not see his scars. He never really knew what they looked like, but he was aware that they were there. Now, his skin only showed some signs of age, but nothing more. He still felt naked without his glasses though. 

Ignis walked back to the shop floor and up to Aranea behind the counter. 

“I’m ready, Aranea” he said. 

“I don’t remember telling you my name.”

Ignis felt a moment of panic, but then noticed her discarded name tag sitting on the countertop. 

“I just assumed that was your name tag over there,” he said, gesturing awkwardly. 

“Oh. Right. Bit presumptuous, but yes. That’s me. Aranea Highwind, at your service. You?”

“My name?”

“Yeah. Or I can just keep calling you ‘the recruit’ all day if you prefer.”

“Ignis. Ignis Scientia.”

“Good name. Anyway, I’ll walk you through the till first. It gets a little stuck at times.”

Good name, Ignis thought. Aranea liked to tell him that he had a good name in his own timeline. That she would have taken it on herself, had it not gone against her personal ideals. He, of course, respected her wishes. 

As Aranea went through the logistics of the shop, Ignis listened intently, but not because he was learning anything in particular. No, he simply wanted to hear her talk. He would even close his eyes when she wasn’t looking, and feel comforted at her voice being the only stimulation. 

“And this is where we keep the rolls of gil if you need small change.” Aranea stopped all of a sudden, furrowing her brows as she looked at Ignis, almost like seeing him for the first time. “Hey, weren’t you the guy at the library yesterday?”

“The library?” he said, snapping out of it. 

“Yeah. You looked at me all weird.”

“Right. Yes. I did see you there. You… reminded me of someone.” 

“Pfft, I’ve heard that line before. Well listen, there’s not going to be any of that funny business here, ya hear me?”

His Aranea would absolutely love this kind of funny business. 

“Of course.” 

“Good. Now that we got that out of the way, I’ll give you a tour of the weapons.” 

Ignis followed Aranea around the shop, taking in every tiny movement she made as she pointed at the displays, demonstrating a few quick moves with different types of swords—a weapon Ignis was not used to seeing her wield. She was skilled enough with them, but he could tell she wasn’t yet the lethal fighter she would become one day. Her hair was tied half up with a black bow, like at the library yesterday, and she wore her Academy Weaponry t-shirt with tight black pants and boots. Her figure still curved in a way that would send the most modest of men up the walls, but she looked thinner, her muscles not quite as dense yet. 

Still, she was Aranea, and it took everything in Ignis’ power not to explain the entire situation to her and then engulf her in his arms. 

—

Who knew that retail could be so boring? 

Ignis spent the day moving merchandise about while Aranea got to do most of the talking with customers. He rang through sales (giving her full commission, of course), and tidied up unruly stacks of weapons not purchased. During his lunch break, Ignis sat in the back room, making notes about his library findings in a pocket-sized stationary he decided he had a right to as an employee. His stomach growled, and he helped himself to a small pack of pretzels that were piled in a large bowl and a can of Ebony. It was hardly the nutrition he needed, but it was better than nothing. He couldn’t help reaching for a second pack of pretzels either, so desperate was his hunger. 

When it was Aranea’s turn to take her lunch break, she exited the shop and Ignis could see her meeting with the dark-haired man from the library the other night. They didn’t greet each other with a kiss, only an awkward half-hug, but Ignis felt his skin crawl nonetheless. 

On the bright side (if there was one), he enjoyed the increased interaction in the shop as the only employee there, impressing customers with his dagger and lance skills, and convincing a few budding swordsmen to consider abandoning their weapon of choice in favor of more elegant and swift options. 

Then Aranea came back, and all hell broke loose. 

“Hey Ignis, how were sales while I was gone?” 

“Excellent. I sold two sets of daggers, and one very intricately designed lance.” 

“What?”

“Apologies, was I not clear?”

“Did you sell any swords?” Aranea said slowly, raising her brows. 

“No. I convinced the customers to give another type of weapon a try, one that is far more sophisti—”

“You what?” Aranea’s cheeks flushed red, a reaction Ignis had often felt against his hands but never witnessed. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, something is the matter. Have you lost your mind? Daggers? Lances?? Those aren’t our primary targets to sell! We can’t have a bunch of people running around out there, fighting with those useless, flimsy—”

“Pardon me, Aranea, but are you trying to tell me that you don’t approve of pole arms?” 

“I’m a swordsman, of course not! And the Academy doesn’t exactly encourage it either. They’re all about their swords. Big, powerful, reliable. What more could you want?” 

Ignis looked at Aranea in shock. Aranea, a swordsman? It seemed almost laughable to him, considering her unmatched dragoon prowess in his own timeline. And, not to mention, that the daggers and pole arms were truly a more sophisticated option, requiring very particular skills but with the potential for greater damage when used right. 

“The sword is a relatively brutish weapon, compared to daggers or a lance. And, arguably, less effective in the wrong hands,” Ignis said, feeling indignant. 

“The sword is one of the oldest and most popular weapons for a reason,” Aranea replied. 

“Popular only for its ability to be swung around by just about anyone.” 

“Doesn’t that make it a good weapon then?” 

“Quantity over quality. Now, use a pair of daggers with due swiftness, and you can immobilize your enemy with your disorienting speed. Not to mention they are far more discreet in certain situations.” 

“Fine, daggers can be useful sometimes. But a lance?” Aranea crossed her arms defensively. “What’s so great about it? It’s big and clunky, and can’t exactly slice through your enemy the way a sword can.” 

“Oh, but it can. And it can offer you so much more.” 

“Fine. Show me.”

“Right here, now?”

Aranea thought about this a moment. 

“After work,” she said. “There’s a decent practice room in the back. We’re supposed to use it if the shop is quiet. I had plans tonight, but I can move them.”

“I wouldn’t want to impede on your plans.”

“It’s okay. I want to see these pole arm moves of yours. And then show you that I’m right: the sword is best.”

Ignis smirked and nodded, pushing away any questions about her after-work plans and who exactly she was supposed to see. The thought of sparring with Aranea gave him a sense of hope he hadn’t felt since he showed up in this place—a return to some sort of normalcy. 

“Deal. After work then. And I promise you, you will never want to touch a sword again.” 

—

Ignis was prepared. Aranea stood across the room from him, poised with a sword and ready to attack. He stood with his feet firmly planted, his right hand on the lance, his other arm hanging by his side. He looked almost casual to any regular onlooker, but his muscles were twitching and ready to spring into action. 

And they did, as soon as Aranea came charging at him. Ignis swung out of her way, using the lance for leverage, and watched her brace to keep her balance. She swung her sword at him, and he met the steel with the body of the lance, throwing Aranea back and off balance for a second. It was all he needed. 

Ignis flipped through the air, using the lance as a javelin to swing over it and collide his feet with the flat edge of Aranea’s sword, taking her down. He pinned her with his knees as he swung the lance over his head, stabbing the sharp end firmly into the floor next to Aranea’s face. She looked up at him, breathing heavily. 

“What the hell was that acrobatic shit?” Aranea yelled, still pinned to the ground. 

“A deceptively simple move. I could teach it to you, if you like.” 

Ignis smiled down at her, and for a moment she wasn’t a 22-year-old soldier in training, but every bit his own Aranea in one of those moments when he matched her prowess in battle—while blind. 

Ignis never forgot the first time he defeated her during one of their sparring sessions. She had been training him and she never went easy because of his condition—if anything, she pushed him all the harder. The first time that he finally had her pinned down in defeat, he knew he was going to be okay. He could fight again. He could even cook again, and dance again, and eventually, make love again—which proved to be one of the more instinctual things to do blind. He had already wanted to kiss her in that very moment, but they weren’t quite there yet. 

He wanted to kiss her now too, but knew better. To Aranea, he was but a stranger. 

“Get off me,” she groaned, and Ignis obliged. 

“So, would you care to learn the art of the pole arm?” he asked. 

“Think you got me convinced cause you got lucky one time? Think again. I’m just warming up.” 

“Very well then. I’ve got all night.”

With each spar, Aranea improved and gave Ignis a bit more of a challenge, but nowhere near the deadly level he knew her at with a lance. Again and again, he pinned her to the ground, and she would rise up again, unrelenting and unwilling to admit defeat—a trait he knew well. 

After a couple of hours, Aranea still look determined but spent. She was covered in sweat and breathing hard as she checked the time on a clock mounted on the wall. 

“Well, lucky for you, I have to go.” 

“Somewhere to be?” 

“Yeah… meeting a friend.”

“A friend?” 

“Just some guy I know.”

Ignis felt his stomach sink. He could tell from the way that she was trying to downplay it that it wasn’t just a friend—or, at least she hoped it wouldn’t be. It’s a tone he heard her use around him before they finally crossed the line. 

“Very well then. Would you like me to lock up?”

“It’s only your first day though. Not sure I can trust you yet,” Aranea said, eyeing him up and down just a touch playfully. 

“I suppose not. But I bet you will be needing a shower, and I promise I shan’t be making off with anything.” 

“I’ll get in real shit if you do, you hear me? And I will find you and kill you myself if you do. No one crosses me.” 

Ignis was certain she wasn’t joking about that last part. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Fine,” Aranea said, handing over the keys. “See you in the morning.”

She walked out of the room, but paused in the doorway. 

“And hey, if you want to show me more of those pole arm moves, how about tomorrow after work?”

“Of course,” Ignis said, betraying only a hint of a smile. “Oh, and one more thing. Shall we settle today’s pay?”

“Pay? Sorry, but that happens at the end of the week. You’re just gonna have to wait.”

“Right…” 

If Ignis needed an excuse to stay around here any longer, he had it. He waited until he could hear the front door close as Aranea left, pushing away any thoughts of what she was up to later that night. He gathered their weapons and returned them to their rightful places, then tidied the training room. He wasn’t planning to leave, of course. This was as good a place as any to stay the night. 

—

Ignis was in a car, but he wasn’t driving. He was the passenger, and despite preferring to stay in control, he felt safe. The wind swept through his hair, the top down, and he relished this feeling since he couldn’t see a thing. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, and that would have to be enough. 

He reached a hand across the seat and took hold of another, giving it a squeeze and feeling it in return. He smiled. Their mission was simple, uncomplicated—a welcome change from the previous years of his life. 

And yet—

Ignis opened his eyes suddenly, waking from his dream. He looked around, sight still intact, and reminded himself of where exactly he was. Still in the back room of the shop, sleeping on employee t-shirts and under a musty blanket, the only remotely comfortable things that he could find. His stomach growled, reminding him of the abysmal dinner of pretzels he had. 

His hand was in a fist. He uncurled it and felt the absence of the hand in his dream. He felt his heart sinking even further, and he could sense the edges of a memory that he couldn’t quite recall—that he was almost afraid to. 

Glancing toward the window at the back of the room, Ignis could see that dawn was nearing. He didn’t want Aranea figuring out that he had slept here, so he got up to put everything back in its place and clean himself up in the bathroom. 

He had been sleeping in the nude, his clothes now dry from his attempt at washing everything in the sink. The fabrics had gone sniff from the hand soap he used, and he grimaced at the sensation. He had taken a good look at himself as he stripped the night before, examining his body with keen interest. 

He had been so distracted by his situation, he hadn’t taken a good look at himself—an opportunity he hadn’t had in over a decade. But now, in the privacy of the empty shop, he had done his best with the stark bathroom lighting and the crooked mirror to check every part. 

His facial scars were gone, but the scars he had gotten in natural ways remained. Interesting, he noted to himself, that only his scars from a decidedly magical encounter would disappear, not to mention his sight. He thought back to the Crystal Shard he had read about in the library. Perhaps it was all connected, but he couldn’t figure out how just yet. 

His body presented plenty of other interesting points of note. There were a few small freckles he couldn’t recall; his skin looked a bit rougher with the years and he was showing some fine lines, but it seemed distinguished rather than haggard; he had filled out in muscle mass, which he could feel but only fully appreciated now that he could see the fine line his broad shoulders cut. All in all, he had done well as he went into his 30s. 

Ignis couldn’t help but wonder what the younger Aranea would think of him. Would she want to ravage him the same way her older counterpart does? Run her hands along every inch of him with a sort of quiet admiration? 

It didn’t matter. What did matter now was finding a way to Insomnia, and getting back to his own timeline. Back to his own Aranea and Lucie, who meant the world to him. Back to Gladio, his rock after Noctis’ death. Back to Prompto, who he had grown closer to with their shared grief and who he worried about more than ever. And back to Noctis, who now lay silently in the ground, but was no less loved or missed. 

As he thought of his home, Ignis was filled with a sense of dread he couldn’t quite comprehend. Something else was waiting for him back there too, he knew that much. 

And it wasn’t good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Ignis ends up back at Aranea's place... to help her study.
> 
> I'm so excited to be in HighSpecs interaction territory, and it'll be even more full-on next chapter. I also promised some Promptis, and we're building up to that soon too. Let me know what you think so far, I've loved reading the reviews for the first chapter!


	3. Cold Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis gets to know younger Aranea better. Angst happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspiration: https://open.spotify.com/track/08q34Qq0YzIkGkXcvDJhtI

Ignis left the shop an hour before Aranea was due to arrive to search for breakfast. He hadn’t wanted to do this, but the thought of another pack of pretzels filled him with dread, so he borrowed some gil from the till and reasoned that he would return it upon getting his first paycheck. He was getting desperate for a proper meal and finding it difficult to think straight—not very conducive to finding his way to Insomnia and, hopefully, back home. 

He ate a hearty breakfast of eggs and garula steak, with a large steaming cup of freshly-brewed Ebony. He immediately felt better as he took in the scent of the coffee warming his hands. He thought about the photo in his pocket, but decided not to look. He wasn’t sure if he ever even would, but if he did, there had to be a better moment than being lost and confused on enemy territory. 

As Ignis walked back to the shop, he could see Aranea walking down the opposite end of the street. He paused and studied her while she hadn’t noticed him. Her head was lowered, not exactly her usual confident self, and her steps lacked their usual conviction. Perhaps her night with her “friend” hadn’t gone so well after all? 

Ignis almost felt guilty for hoping this was the case. Almost. 

He met her at the front door, and she immediately assumed her usual woman-in-charge demeanor, akin to a catlike reflex. 

“Morning. Guess I could trust you after all. You didn’t make off with the goods,” Aranea said as Ignis unlocked the door for her. 

“I gave my word. I never break it,” Ignis replied, holding the door open. “Ladies first.”

“Huh,” she scoffed, but walked through anyway. 

“How was your evening?” 

“Fine. Yours?”

So he wasn’t about to get a real answer out of her. Whatever happened, it went straight to that place where she put anything she wasn’t comfortable with. 

“Mine was fine as well. My dinner was a bit lackluster,” Ignis answered. 

“What’d you eat, a pack of pretzels?”

“Precisely.” 

Aranea looked at him, unsure if he was being serious, and then laughed. 

—

The shop’s footfall was erratic. One moment, it would be packed with eager young soldiers and regular folks who wanted to take their protection into their own hands, and the next it was empty and quiet. Ignis chose one of these moments to try and pry some information out of Aranea for getting to Lucis. 

“Have you ever been there?” he asked, knowing full well that she hadn’t at this point. 

“Nope. And I have no desire to go.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t care to learn anything about those assholes and their culture, for starters. So if I do go, it’s not going to be for tourism. It’ll be to fight.”

“And you don’t want to do that?”

“I have no issue with slitting the throat of any Lucian I see,” Aranea said, her sudden ferocity surprising Ignis. He didn’t recall her telling him she ever felt so strongly about Lucians. 

“But,” she continued, “I hear they’re strong fighters. And I’m not sure I’d make it back…” 

“You’re a strong fighter too.”

“I’m not good enough yet. I know I’m not. I’m supposed to be graduating from the Academy this year, but I still have a long way to go. Too long. And I keep failing those damn written tests on top of it.”

“Is that what you were studying for in the library?”

“Yeah. Or at least trying to.”

“Perhaps I can help tutor,” Ignis said before logic could stop him. “I’ve always been particularly adept with academia.” 

“I’m sorry, but what’s your deal?”

“Pardon?”

“You show up out of nowhere, accept a job on the spot, you’re clearly a very skilled fighter, and now you’re an academic too? Come on. What’s your story?” 

“You know all you need to,” Ignis tried. 

“No way. Tell me something more about yourself. You’re from Tenebrae, I’m guessing?”

Ignis knew better than to be honest here, especially after her comment about slitting Lucians’ throats. His accent came mostly from a large selection of Tenebraen tutors teaching him in Insomnia. He had liked the way it sounded as a child and fashioned his own speech after it. But his blood was Lucian. 

“Yes, I’m from Tenebrae.”

“What brought you to Gralea?” 

“I’m looking for answers to something. But I’m afraid I cannot discuss what.” 

“Huh.” Aranea tapped a pen she had been holding against her lip. “You’re not a spy, are you?” 

“What? No, of course not.”

“Cause if you’re secretly a Lucian spy or something, I will kill you.”

She said it casually, but Ignis knew she wasn’t joking. It was the same tone she used when talking about anyone harming their daughter—many daemons have paid the price for coming too close. 

“I am certainly not a spy, Aranea.” 

“So you want to tutor me?” she asked jovially, leaning on the countertop. She sure knew how to jump between topics and moods. 

“I would be happy to assist.”

“Cool. How about tonight, after you show me some of your lance tricks?”

“No plans tonight?”

“Nope.”

“I would be happy to then.”

—

Aranea stood rather awkwardly with the lance at first, not entirely sure how to distribute her weight. Ignis offered some adjustments, touching her only lightly as he moved her into a better position. Every bit of contact was a tease, only strengthening his yearning to feel her strong arms around his shoulders or his waist, pulling him close and squeezing his breath out. It was a move that Aranea was very fond of in the future, and Ignis half-worried she might squeeze the life out of their daughter one day.

Ignis recalled the first time he found out just how strong Aranea’s hold could be. They had been training on the outskirts of Lestallum in the early days of Noctis’ disappearance when they were attacked by a hoard of daemons. They held their own the best they could, but Ignis was still learning his way around his disability and Aranea was both fighting the beasts off and trying to protect him. 

They were overwhelmed, and the last thing Ignis remembered was being painfully thrown to the ground and Aranea yelling his name. When he came to, there were others around (Prompto? Gladio?) and Aranea was using every elixir she had. He opened his eyes, still seeing only darkness, and Aranea let out a loud sigh of relief. She pulled him halfway off the ground and held him close to her, gripping desperately with those strong arms and squeezing the air out of him. He thought she may have even been crying, but the wetness on her face as she pressed against his could have also been sweat. 

Ignis was practically gasping for air, but he didn’t object; there was also something immensely comforting about this. Her scent was strong and intoxicating, and she was both fierce and soft, sending Ignis into a frenzied and confusing place where he didn’t know if he wanted to ravage her or kiss her and tell her that everything was fine. 

Instead, he chose to do nothing but bury his face into her neck and he felt her arms tightening further. I’m not going anywhere, he thought. 

How he had failed in that promise now. 

“Hey, Ignis? Back to Eos,” Aranea said, still shifting around in her fighting stance. 

“Apologies. I was lost in thought.”

“Yeah, well get un-lost and help me. Is this right? Am I holding this thing the right way?” 

“Almost. Move your right hand a little higher so your grip is distributed evenly. Yes, like that.”

Ignis grabbed a lance for himself and positioned himself in front of Aranea. 

“Ready?”

“Wait, aren’t we gonna go ov—”

Ignis sprung at her and Aranea just barely managed to block and parry his attack. He spun around and quickly came up from behind her, knocking her forward and onto her knees. Aranea bit down on her lips and tightened her grip on her lance as she swung around and nearly sliced through Ignis’ midsection as he just barely jumped out of the way. 

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” she said. 

“Oh, but I did,” Ignis quipped, smiling to himself at his own internal joke about his recovered sight. “You’re getting better at using your lance to attack. But try seeing how it can benefit you in other ways.”

With that, Ignis jammed the lance into the ground and used it as leverage to spin into the air, his feet landing a shot against Aranea’s side and sending her off-balance. He then twisted to the ground and yanked the lance up and over his head, throwing it in Aranea’s directly and narrowly missing. 

“See? I could have easily impaled you there.”

“One problem though.”

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t. And now I have two lances.”

She picked up Ignis’ lance and readied herself with both weapons, then charged toward Ignis. He rolled out of the way just in time. 

“You know, the Lucians have a certain magic from the crystal that allows them to conjure their weapons back,” he said in between breaths. 

“Do they now?” She swung at him again. 

“Yes. And that makes the lance a very useful weapon indeed.”

“Too bad you’re not a Lucian then.” 

“Too bad.” 

As Aranea charged toward him again, Ignis flipped through the air and kicked a lance from her hand. He grabbed it and pointed it at her throat. 

“Too bad it’s also difficult to fight with two lances. Don’t get greedy, Miss Highwind. One is more than sifficient, I assure you.” 

Aranea suddenly jammed her elbow into Ignis, giving herself just enough time to put some space between them. 

“Let’s try this again,” she said, grinning. 

They sparred for another couple of hours, with Aranea quickly getting the hang of it. And of course she did; she was a master dragoon in eight year’s time. Once they finished their practice, they replaced their weapons and grabbed some towels to wipe off. Both were soaked with sweat. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place and get showered? I’ll order some food and you can tutor me. That is, if the offer still stands?”

“Of course. And dinner would be delightful.”

They walked for 20 minutes to Aranea’s place through the dark and imposing maze that was Gralea, mostly talking about the art of the pole arm. Ignis found he truly enjoyed speaking with her this way. She was curious, and he clearly proved to her that there was plenty he could show her, a privilege he hadn’t enjoyed in his own time. The irony to Ignis was, of course, that he was merely showing her her own moves. But nonetheless, he reveled in being able to teach the great Aranea Highwind a thing or two. 

It was then that a question dawned on him: Could it be possible that the future Aranea learned her skills from him? Was he always meant to travel back in time like this? And if so, why didn’t she remember him when they fought one another in Fort Vaullerey? All Aranea had ever told Ignis was that she learned to fight during her time at the Academy. 

“My dorm’s just in here,” Aranea said as they arrived in front of a four-story brick building, snapping Ignis out of it. 

“A dormitory?”

“Yeah. Can’t exactly afford a real apartment, now can I?” 

“You don’t have any room mates, do you?” Ignis asked, climbing the stairs to the top floor. 

“Nah. I’m a senior now—I don’t have to share. And I get my own bathroom and kitchen.”

Aranea let them into her small and dimly-lit room, giving Ignis a quick tour. Her kitchen was small, consisting of nothing more than a mini-fridge, sink, and burner, and it looked barely used. The room was furnished simply, with a twin bed on one side and a couch on the other, as well as a desk and coffee table. 

“Believe it or not, this is one of the larger rooms,” Aranea said, noticing his expression. 

Little did she know, Ignis was actually thinking about how small their first place in Lestallum was—really no bigger than this dorm room. He missed it dearly. 

“Anyway, I’m going to jump in the shower first,” Aranea said. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen—though there isn’t much. Oh, and if you want to order some takeout, there are menus there too. My treat. You are tutoring me, after all.”

Aranea handed him her cell phone and went into the bathroom. She closed the door and Ignis listened to the shower come on. He wondered what she looked like naked. He’d never seen her like that—only ever felt her. The details he must be missing… 

Ignis picked up a menu and scrolled through the options to distract himself. He saw Aranea’s favorite noodle dish with shrimp, a special treat that he would make for her whenever someone returned to Lestallum with some marked-up seafood during the days of darkness. He dialed the restaurant’s number and ordered two, plus a couple of vegetable side dishes—mostly to fulfill his own cravings. 

He sat on the couch and put the phone on the coffee table, surveying Aranea’s belongings. She wasn’t like the typical college student with pictures of friends plastered on her walls. Instead, she had only a few motivational quotes, but even those seemed halfheartedly tacked on—as if she had been trying to fit in. There were no pictures of friends though, no boyfriends either. Ignis sighed in relief. 

And just as he sighed, Aranea’s phone flashed a message on its screen. 

Calvis:  
_Hey, sorry about yesterday. I’ve got a lot of stuff going on, but I…_

The message preview cut off, and Ignis was tempted to read the rest but opted not to. Not only would it invade Aranea’s privacy, but he might not like what he found. He hated the thought of Aranea with another man, but this was before he came into her life. She had many years of adulthood before she met him; he knew he wasn’t the first person she was with. It wasn’t something that ever bothered him in their life together, but somehow this felt different. And yet, he knew he had no right to be feeling this way either.

That didn’t mean it didn’t sting though. 

“All yours. I left a towel in there for you,” Aranea said as she emerged from the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. Ignis couldn’t remember Aranea ever wearing such an outfit, not even during pregnancy. 

“Thank you,” Ignis said, walking into the steamy bathroom. 

He undressed, checking for his family photo out of habit, and folded his clothes. He jumped into the shower and took stock of his options. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, sugar scrub, face mask, another conditioner, a razor blade, shaving cream, a bar of soap with glitter mixed in—this was certainly foreign territory. The Aranea he lived with kept such things to a minimum—though whether that was from preference or circumstance, Ignis suddenly wasn’t sure. Was his own Aranea secretly missing these small pleasures of a more stable world or had she simply outgrown it?

Ignis grabbed the body wash and scrubbed himself clean, then washed his hair. He even put on a bit of conditioner and let the warm water fall over him as he took a moment to breathe. He imagined Aranea climbing into the shower with him, shedding her sweatpants and surprising him with her naked figure pressing against his. 

It was something that his Aranea liked to do. She would try to sneak in as quietly as she could, but she never did manage to surprise him. A soft padding of her feet, a flutter of the shower curtain—something would always give her away to his sharp senses. It was like a game they played, one that she was determined to keep trying to win, even if it took her a lifetime. That’s always how Aranea did things she set her mind to—with a singular dedication. 

Ignis shook his head and rinsed the conditioner. There was a knock at the door. 

“Hurry up in there, the food just arrived!” Aranea called in. 

“Apologies. Two minutes,” Ignis called back, shutting off the water. He pulled his pants back on and slipped on a spare Academy Weaponry t-shirt he had brought with him. 

Aranea was already plating the food when he stepped back into the living area. 

“You know what, this is one of my favorites!” she said happily. “Good guess.”

“How lucky.” 

They sat down on the couch to eat, with Aranea placing a couple of glasses of wine on the coffee table. 

“Is that for studying?” Ignis asked. 

“I think better when I’m relaxed,” Aranea said. 

“Fair enough.”

Aranea’s phone lit up again, clearly another message from Calvis. 

“Someone trying to get a hold of you?” Ignis asked. 

“Yeah. He can keep trying. I’m not answering tonight.”

“Something the matter?” 

“Oh, you know, just your usual guy problems. You go out for a drink, think everything’s going well, and suddenly he needs to get back to his place cause he’s got an early class.”

“That seems like a valid excuse.” Ignis really had no idea what else to say. 

“Yeah, right. Or maybe it’s the fact that he thought I’d be easy, but I told him that… Well, doesn’t matter, I don’t want to bore you with this.”

“No, please go on.”

“I don’t want to.” 

Aranea put her plate down and took a big gulp of wine. 

“Why don’t we talk about what you need for tutoring instead?” Ignis offered. 

“Why don’t we talk about why you slept in the shop and stole money from the till instead?” Aranea said. 

Ignis sat frozen, unsure of what to say. He knew she was good—that good. He should have known better. 

“Think I wouldn’t double check the money or the security camera? I wasn’t born yesterday. But you didn’t seem to take anything else besides several packs of pretzels and enough gil to buy your breakfast, so tell me… What’s your deal?” 

In times like these, honesty was often the best way forward. At least, partial honesty was. 

“I woke up in the middle of a snowy field several hours from Gralea and I have no idea how I got there,” Ignis said plainly. 

“What? Are you serious?”

“It was a couple of days ago. I still don’t know what happened. To complicate matters further, I seem to be having some amount of amnesia.”

“And you didn’t have anything on you, like a wallet or something?”

“No. I know my name and certain other details. But how I ended up in that snowy field is yet a mystery to me.” Ignis sighed, relieved that he didn’t have to lie. 

“So you don’t have a place to stay or even money for food?”

“That is my predicament, yes. I was going to return what I borrowed from the till when I got paid, but I couldn’t eat another pack of those damned pretzels for a meal.” 

“Hey, don’t hate on the pretzels. It’s not their fault you’re in this mess.”

Ignis laughed, Aranea’s humor hitting a very familiar note. 

“I was hoping I could find some answers,” he continued, “and perhaps a roof over my head. That’s why I enquired about the job at the shop.” 

“You’re a very skilled fighter,” Aranea said, and Ignis silently reveled in such a compliment from her, one that she gave infrequently just to keep him on his toes. 

“You show great promise yourself,” Ignis replied. 

“Why are you a skilled fighter?”

“Miss Highwind, did you invite me over to tutor you or to interrogate me?” 

“Both. We’re starting with this first. There’s no way that someone with your skill and knowledge would just randomly want to work in a shop like this, making 10 gil an hour. Why not go to the police instead? Why are you trying to lay low?” 

Aranea’s voice was laced with playful suspicion, like she was playing a game of cat and mouse with him. It was certainly the Aranea he knew. 

“In complete honesty, I cannot remember everything that lead me to where I am,” Ignis said, looking her very directly in the eyes—a habit he knew he did even blind. It unnerved Aranea. 

“What I do know about myself, I’m afraid I cannot tell you,” he continued. “But I am not a spy, and I am certainly not your enemy. I just ask one thing of you: that you trust me. I am not here to hurt anyone, but I do need to find my way back to where I belong.” 

Aranea mulled this over a moment, looking Ignis up and down as if there was a puzzle for her to solve. 

“Fine,” she said at last. “I’m probably crazy for saying this, but I’ll trust you.”

“Thank you.”

“But if you cross me—”

“—You’ll kill me with your bare hands?”

“And with the moves you taught me.” 

“Now, now, don’t give yourself away all at once.”

“There’s always another trick up my sleeve, Ignis. Just remember that.”

“I certainly do.” 

—

Helping Aranea Highwind study was a new experience for Ignis, one wrought with many unexpected frustrations. She was either easily bored, her attention span fleeting at the very mention of strategies and famous battles in history (“Who the hell needs to know this bullshit now, anyway?”) or very argumentative over poor decision making (“But why would that douchebag of a King think it was a good idea to invade when they were clearly outnumbered?”) The finer intricacies of war and Niflheim history eluded her. 

And still, Ignis relished their proximity on the couch, hunched over books and notes. He could smell her freshly washed hair and sneak in moments to study the fine details of her face, the very things he had been missing all of these years. He found himself falling in love all over again with every little thing he already knew in touch, like the curve of her nose, or with new discoveries like the subtle freckles dotting her cheeks. 

Yes, she was different in many ways and not yet the woman he knew. But she was also very much his Aranea, and he could do nothing about it but steal glances. 

“It’s late,” Aranea said, stretching back on the couch. “I should probably get some sleep.”

“Yes, of course,” Ignis said, standing up. He walked over to his coat and stopped awkwardly, realizing he hadn’t thought about his accommodations for the night. If he asked for the keys to the shop, would Aranea give it to him again? 

“Where are you going?” she asked, finishing the last of her drink. 

“I… I’m not entirely sure.”

“Cause you have nowhere to go, right?”

“I do not. Perhaps if you could entrust me once more with the keys to the shop—”

“No way. You’re not sleeping on a pile of t-shirts again. You can crash on my couch. It might not be much more comfortable, but it’s at least a little more dignified.” 

Aranea smiled at him and cleared away the books and notes. She went to the lone dresser in the room and pulled out some extra sheets—she was oddly prepared for overnight guests for a college student, Ignis thought. 

“I’ve kept an extra set around in case anyone from home ever wanted to visit me,” she said.  
“Four years… It’s about time someone uses these damn things.”

Her family. Ignis knew little of it, and Aranea seemed to prefer it that way. When he tried to prod, she simply said that he and Lucie were her family now and that is all she was concerned with. He respected her wishes and never pushed her further. He almost felt guilty for asking her now. 

“Are you not close?” 

“What can I say, I’m the black sheep,” she said. “My sister liked dolls and wanted to get married and have babies. I just wanted to play with swords, and apparently I never outgrew that phase.” 

“You were simply being true to yourself,” Ignis offered. 

“Yeah, but apparently my family is basic enough to have a problem with that. And besides, I can never see myself being married or having kids, or any of that stuff. It’s just not me.”

Ignis thought of the photo in his jacket pocket and smiled to himself. 

“You must always do what is best for you in any given moment in your life. As for your family, I am sorry that they do not accept your choices. But you will learn to get by without them.”

“What makes you think that?” 

“An instinct, I suppose.” 

Aranea finished making the couch for Ignis and motioned to it. 

“All set,” she declared. 

“Better than t-shirts.” 

“Don’t push your luck, mystery man. And also, don’t think about doing anything funny in my sleep. I’m a light sleeper.” 

That was a lie. 

“And try not to snore.”

Never bothered her before. 

“And if you want to repay my generosity, have the coffee on before I wake up.”

As is always the case. 

It would appear that sleeping in the same room as the younger Aranea Highwind wouldn’t be so different from what Ignis already knew. 

—

The first time Aranea let Ignis stay over was a silent surprise to them both. She was in the small bachelor she inherited from a fallen friend in Lestallum, which had been a godsend for their secret trysts, with no room mates to be concerned about. Usually Ignis would sneak back to the hotel room he shared with Prompto and Gladio after they were done, and the casualness of their relationship would remain intact. 

But this night, something had been upsetting Aranea. She didn’t seem like her usual self, and even the sex seemed a little forced on her part, as if she was attempting to go through the motions of her usual teasing behavior—but it felt hollow. Ignis asked if she’d like to stop, but she only got irritated and rode him that much harder. 

After, Ignis lay with Aranea cradled in his arms longer than usual. She wouldn’t move, but she had made it very clear that he was never to stay the night. Eventually, Ignis attempted to slip out from under her, but Aranea tightened her grip and pulled him back. 

“I saw a daemon maul a child today, and I couldn’t get there in time to stop it,” she whispered. It was almost inaudible. 

Ignis nestled back down and tightened his grip on her. There was nothing he could say; they both knew things like this happened, and so far Aranea had been lucky enough to avoid witnessing it. Ignis, on the other hand, never saw such horrors with his own eyes—only heard them. 

And so he held her. He held her until the dark morning that followed, when they had to get ready for training with Cor. She didn’t move all night, and his grip never faltered. It was the first time that they both realized that, despite her bravado, Aranea needed Ignis. 

And he needed her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Aranea invites Ignis along on a trip, and Ignis gets more clues to his situation. 
> 
> I'm now caught up with what I've pre-written, and while I'll do my best to do weekly updates, bi-weekly will likely happen too. I've got lots of scenes I'm very excited to write! I always appreciate any feedback on how you're enjoying this, what you're thinking, etc :)


	4. Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea gets an ultimatum. Jelly Ignis makes an appearance when Aranea's "friend" interrupts a study session.

The sound that she wasn’t alone kept Aranea awake at night. Normally she slept just fine, but having another person breathing on the couch across the room unsettled her. She didn’t ever have friends crashing the night—the few people she was on somewhat friendly terms with had their own dorm rooms, and they were hardly close enough for a sleepover. 

As for men, well, no one has ever actually stayed before. 

Such were the perils of her reputation. Aranea wasn’t entirely sure how she managed this everywhere she went, but girls generally distrusted her and men only wanted one thing. She was fine with this, she told herself. It meant less drama. 

Except sometimes, she felt just a little lonely. That’s why she was trying a different approach with Calvis. She wasn’t going to sleep with him, or do more than make out for that matter, until she knew he was serious about her. She liked him. He was charming and attractive, with curly dark locks of hair and a strong jawline, and he even made her laugh sometimes. The conversation was still a work in progress, but she wasn’t exactly impressing him with her study skills either. That’s why this little tutoring arrangement with Ignis had come at such a good time. 

Ignis… 

Aranea listened to his measured breathing across the room. Most people would say she was crazy for letting him stay, especially after proving himself both a lethal fighter and a pretzel-pilferer. But something told Aranea that she could trust him. And she was a curious type. 

She spun around in bed so that she was facing him and tried to make out his features in the shadows, with only a weak light from outside softly highlighting his nose and cheeks. She thought he looked very handsome, but then felt strange about it and pushed the thought away. She got up to go to the washroom instead. 

As she was about to wash her hands, Aranea noticed the folded clothes that Ignis had accidentally left by the sink counter after his shower. Without thinking, she started to unfold his jacket and slipped a hand in the right pocket. Empty. The left too. She opened the lapel and saw an internal pocket, feeling something underneath the lining—a folded paper of sorts—but was startled by a loud moan from Ignis in the other room.

Aranea folded the jacket back up, leaving the pile of clothes by the sink, and went back into the room. Ignis was shifting around a lot, hands twitching and face grimacing. He was having a nightmare.

Aranea tiptoed around in front of the couch, unsure of what to do. 

“Hey,” she said. He still fidgeted and moaned. 

“Hey!” she said louder, and for a moment he paused as if he heard her and then settled into the couch, limbs going heavy. 

“Mmmm…” Ignis groaned quietly. “Where are you? Where…” 

Aranea shook her head and went back to bed, but she watched him for a while. He calmed down into a deep sleep, his breath heavy. Eventually she drifted off too, lulled to sleep by the admittedly comforting sounds of Ignis’ breathing keeping time in the background. 

—

Aranea awoke to the smell of coffee. 

In 10 years, she would wake up to the same smell for what would appear to be the first time. Ignis would have finally spent the night (another first) and he would be up before her, making a fresh brew. She would know in that moment that allowing him to stay was right. 

It would all feel so damn right with him. So infuriatingly right. 

But now, Aranea felt unsure. Every time she looked at him, she wondered what secrets he hid—for she could tell he was certainly hiding something. She liked playing with fire. 

“Good morning,” Ignis called over. He seemed in good spirits this morning. 

“Hey. Coffee smells good.”

“Freshly brewed. I hope you don’t mind, but I helped myself to some cereal.”

“No problem. Sorry I don’t have anything better.”

“Bran. A solid choice.”

Aranea laughed and got up to pour herself a mug. 

“So you’re ready for another exciting day at the Academy?” she said dryly.

“Can’t wait.” 

“The Academy director is coming by today apparently. She likes to keep an eye on things every now and then.” 

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

“And, well… There’s another thing. The director is announcing the finalists for the Academy Brawl. I’m hoping she’ll tell me I’m one of them…” 

“Apologies, the Academy Brawl?”

“Seriously? Wow, your memory’s definitely fried. It’s only the biggest competition for graduating students. We fight against one another until only one remains. I mean, no one dies—we just get knocked out. They select only the strongest fighters in the class and broadcast it all over Niflheim. I’ve been trying really hard to get shortlisted.” 

Ignis tried hard to recall Aranea ever talking about this in their own time. Did she make it in? She usually kept quiet about her past, and he couldn’t remember her saying anything about participating in the Academy Brawl.

“I do hope you are delivered some good news today then,” Ignis said, offering a carton of milk for Aranea’s coffee. He had checked that it wasn’t expired first. 

“Thanks. And besides, I’ve never been to Tenebrae. It would be cool to go.”

“Tenebrae?” 

“Yeah. That’s where the Brawl takes place. There are three days of battles, and an opening and closing ceremony. It’s a really big deal.”

“Is the Oracle in attendance at all?” 

“Why? You want to ask for her number?” Aranea took a sip of her coffee. 

“No…” Ignis paused, mulling over a valid excuse. “I’m hoping that she may be able to use her gifts to aid my memory.”

Or she may be able to contact Regis, perhaps even help Ignis find a way out of Niflheim—anything. And if anyone were to believe his story, it would be Luna. Although Ignis had never met her, he had a feeling that she was rather open-minded to stories of time travel. 

“Well, good luck with that. She’s a closely guarded prize here,” Aranea said. “But they’ll probably parade her around, if only to show everyone that we’re still winning.”

“Seems like rather crude treatment for someone of her stature.”

“Yeah. It must suck for her,” Aranea said, shrugging as she took a drink. 

If she only knew what awaited poor Luna. The future Aranea would have a quiet admiration for the Oracle, with an underlying sadness that she couldn’t—didn’t—do more to save her. 

“Well, let’s get going,” Aranea said, draining her mug. 

“Yes, let’s.”

—

The day at the shop had gone by in a busy blur when the Academy director, Anima Vallis, walked in just around closing time. She was a tall and imposing figure with short slicked-back hair. Her broad shoulders and cat-like glare made her positively frightening, even by Ignis’s standards. 

Aranea stood taller than usual, chin held high, gathering her strength to feign a confidence she did not yet possess. She was small in the shadow of Anima Vallis, but a certain determination managed through. 

Anima walked around the shop, examining that everything was in order. She then met Aranea’s eyes straight on and, without a word, took out an envelope and presented it to her. 

Aranea’s eyes widened as she reached for it—just as it was snatched away from her grasp. 

“Not so fast,” Anima said. Her voice was low and even, quiet, but frighteningly authoritative. “Aranea, you show great promise.”

“Thank you,” Aranea’s voice quivered. 

“In the ring,” Anima continued. “But your grades are abysmal.” 

Aranea’s eyes dropped to the floor for a fraction of a second before meeting Anima’s again. 

“I’m sorry. I’m trying,” she replied. 

“I know. And I’m trying too. The rest of the Academy didn’t want you to participate due to your grades. But I see promise in you. So I’ve struck a deal: pass your exam tomorrow, and you may participate in the Brawl.”

Aranea lit up and looked like she might throw herself at Anima from joy, but instead remained in place and stood ever straighter. 

“Thank you, Ms. Vallis,” she said. “I will do my best.”

“Good. I hope you won’t disappoint me, Ms. Highwind. Believe it or not, I put myself on the line for you.” 

“I understand.”

And with that, Anima Vallis exited the shop, invitational envelope in hand. Aranea collapsed on top of the counter.

“Fuuuuuuuck…” she moaned. “There’s no way I’m passing this test.”

“You can, and you will. You simply have to study more,” Ignis said. 

“But there’s no time!”

“Now, enough of that. The shop is closing, the night is young—we should head to the library.”

“What?” 

“You heard me. Gather your things, we’re going to study!” 

Ignis said that with such genuine excitement that Aranea couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I wish I had your enthusiasm for failed battles and dumb ancient names.” 

“We’ll find it within you.” 

“So you’re tutoring me again?”

“Yes. And I have some research of my own to do as well.”

“Great. Sounds like an exciting night ahead,” Aranea quipped as she grabbed her things and headed toward the door. “How did I end up in this mess?”

“If I only knew.”

—

The noises in the library were hesitant. Whether a cough, a rustling of a page, or a quiet conversation, everything was reluctant to make a sound. 

Ignis found it a reprieve. 

His hearing had grown sharper over the decade without his sight. Though by some grace of the Astrals he could now see, his other senses hadn’t quite muted yet. It made for somewhat of an overwhelming world at times. 

In the library, the focus was no longer on the sounds of large crowds, speeding cars, or weapons clashing during a sparring session. 

No, he was listening only to the gentle breaths that Aranea let out in even intervals. They were the same pacing as when she was trying hard to concentrate. Ignis knew it well, whether it was while she read out directives from Cor, attempted to cook, or gave Ignis a back massage. She was focused, attentive to her task. 

Ignis loved that about her. It showed just how much she cared even when she was likely rolling her eyes at some inconvenient request. 

And now, she was breathing gently beside him as they painstakingly made their way through her study materials. He had his own stack of books open too, any research he could find on the Crystal and its Shards. He caught Aranea stealing glances at these, but she didn’t ask questions. He knew she was taking stock though. She would be ready to bring it up, should the need arise. 

“Now, let’s move on to the Battle of the Ten Valleys,” Ignis said. 

“This is dumb. How is this going to help me in any way?” Aranea said. 

“If you understand why it failed, perhaps you will not make the same poor judgment calls in your own military future.”

“I know I won’t, cause I don’t say yes to dumb plans. And this plan was dumb.”

“Just try to pay attention a moment.” 

Ignis had Aranea write a description of the battle while he returned to his books. He hadn’t found anything too interesting so far, but an older paperback he’d picked up caught his eye. 

_Anecdotes of a Crazy Scientist_ , it was so charmingly titled. 

Ignis flipped to the index and found some pages referencing Crystal Shards. He flipped to the chapter—a journal entry by the author. 

_“It was in desperation that I placed my hand upon the Shard and let the lottery of life take its form. So desperate was I to save my beloved, even this seemed a worthy effort. I ended up in a strange year that was not my own. I suspected that a second hand placed upon the Shard would perhaps return me to my time. It took some effort, but I tracked a piece and proved my theory correct. My beloved, unfortunately, did not survive—despite my time-bending experiments. Perhaps what is meant to be, is simply meant to be.”_

Ignis felt a strange surge, as if a thought was at the tip of his memory but he couldn’t conjure it. Something about this passage resonated with him, and he copied the text into his small notebook. 

“Find something?” Aranea asked. 

“Just a point of interest.”

“You’re really into the Crystal, eh. You sure you’re not a Lucian?”

“Niflheim is very interested in the Crystal. They’re not Lucians.”

“Touché.” 

“I merely find it fascinating, so I am conducting some research.”

“Right. Well, I’m done with studying. My brain’s fried, and I can’t do it anymore.”

Just as Ignis was about to suggest they retire for the night, a figure appeared in front of them, leaning on the table. The curly dark locks gave him away immediately; it was Calvis. 

“Hey Ara,” he said, grinning stupidly according to Ignis. "Studying late?"

"Yeah. We got that exam tomorrow." 

Aranea twisted a strand of hair around her finger. Ignis raised an eyebrow and looked up at Calvis, trying very hard not to hate him. He didn't mean to feel like punching him—it's just that he never saw Aranea twist her hair for him before. Perhaps she had, of course, but he wasn't able to see it. 

"Who's this?" Calvin asked, gesturing to Ignis. 

"Academy Weaponry's newest employee," Aranea said. 

"No way, man,” Calvis said, addressing Ignis. “Ara mentioned there was a new guy working there. Pretty good with a pair of daggers, I hear. Great to meet you." 

Calvis offered a hand and Ignis took it, giving it a very strong squeeze. So, Aranea had been talking about him. 

"Want to join us? Could use an extra brain for studying," Aranea asked. 

Please no, please no, please no, Ignis thought. 

"I thought we were about to leave," he said. 

"No harm in another 20 minutes," Calvis offered, sitting down across from Aranea. "I could use a refresher."

Ignis prayed it wasn't obvious how much he wanted to commit cold, bloody murder in the middle of the library this very moment.

—

He hated Calvis. It took about two minutes for Ignis to decide this. He was arrogant and untrustworthy, and Ignis told himself it had nothing to do with his personal feelings. He would have hated him in any situation. 

Calvis liked to give challenging grins. He liked to lick his lips too often. He liked to wink at Aranea whenever he said something he thought was clever. Gods, Ignis wanted to punch him. 

The study session had been wrought with the two men trying to outsmart one another with their knowledge at every opportunity—and Calvis was admittedly smart. Almost a worthy challenge for Ignis. Almost. 

But worse, Calvis proved to have no sense of privacy. 

"So what's your deal?" Calvis asked. "You're a bit older than the usual Academy Weaponry employees."

"I've heard this sentiment a number of times," Ignis said. "I, for one, do not see the harm in wanting to help educate you fine young people in the art of various fighting styles."

"Ignis is really gifted at pole arms," Aranea offered. 

"Pole arms," Calvis said. "Long and skinny. Not the same effect as a broadsword—far less, uh, fulfilling.” 

He thought he was so fucking clever, Ignis thought. 

"It's not the size that counts, it's knowing what to do with it," he said. "But I take it you're a broadsword type of guy, in which case mindlessly swinging about will suffice.” 

Calvis glared at Ignis across the table, and Ignis returned the challenge. A lone clock ticked away in the background and someone coughed. 

"Well, we're getting plenty of studying done at this dick measuring competition," Aranea said, snapping her book shut. "Sorry Calvis, I've got an early class tomorrow. But I’ll see you at the exam in the afternoon." 

"Sure," Calvis said, breaking the staring contest with Ignis. "Need me to walk you home?"

"No, it's fine. Ignis, uh, he lives in that direction too." 

"Oh. Sure. See you tomorrow then I guess." 

Calvis finished packing up and walked off, shooting one last glare at Ignis as he exited the library. Ignis finally let out the breath he had been holding for the last 20 minutes. 

"So, Aranea, are you ready to lea—"

"What the hell was that?" Aranea said, her voice dropping down. 

"Pardon me?"

"The two of you. Are you jealous or something?"

"No. What gave you that idea?"

“Well, you could have fooled me. Listen Ignis, you seem like a nice guy and I'm happy to help you out. Clearly, you've found yourself in some trouble. But please stay out of my personal life, okay?"

"Apologies..." It stung. Oh, did it ever. "It won't happen again."

“Good.” 

There was an awkward pause. 

“How about a movie?” Aranea asked. 

"Now?"

"Yeah. If we hurry, we'll catch the last showing. I’ve gotta decompress after all this studying.”

"What's playing?"

"I have no idea. The surprise is half the fun."

—

The other part of the fun was, apparently, sneaking into the movie theatre. Ignis certainly didn't have any money, and Aranea was a student. The solution seemed like second nature to her: They would sneak in through the employee entrance, which Aranea knew the code for from an all-too-brief past employment. 

Ignis would, of course, prefer not to break rules in most cases. But he did always struggle to deny Aranea. 

As soon as they settled in their seats, Aranea jumped back up as if she had forgotten something and told him to wait while she disappeared into the lobby. Ignis watched the opening credits, realizing it was a wartime love story. 

Aranea snuck back in with a large bag of popcorn and several candy packets. 

“Please tell me you paid for these,” Ignis said. 

Aranea stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth in response and settled in her seat. 

“What you don’t know can’t hurt you,” she whispered. “Now shush, the movie’s started.”

Ignis didn’t expect to feel in any particular way about the movie. He was content just to sit next to Aranea and be free of Calvis. As they shared the popcorn, their fingers would graze and he would resist the urge to take her hand and playfully lick the butter off her fingertips. Almost out of habit, he leaned a little bit closer to her as the movie went on, arms and knees touching lightly. Aranea didn’t make any attempt to get closer, nor did she move away. 

And then came the moment that Ignis started to cry. It was quiet and almost imperceptible, even to himself. The lovers in the film had to part in the end—it was war after all. The man changed his mind in the last moment though, and wanted to go back to his love. But it was too late; she had been killed in the line of fire. The man’s deep and guttural cry as he held his lover’s body reverberated through Ignis. It touched something deep inside him that he didn’t fully comprehend. His hands started to shake and his heart beat fast. He began to cry, and he had no idea why, but he had to suppress an urge to let out a scream just like the man in the movie. 

Aranea noticed. She noticed everything, all the time. Sometimes people liked to underestimate her, believe her blasé facade, but she was constantly putting the pieces together. Just like she was with Ignis now—and his pieces were unravelling. 

So she took his hand. Nervously, she reached over and grabbed it. Hers was buttery and his sweaty, but she gave him a squeeze anyway. He seemed to calm down. He started to breath again. He concentrated on her hand instead of the strange reaction he was having. He focused on how Aranea’s palms were always dry—except when she had been in labor. 

He had held her hand as she moaned through the pain. She refused to scream, instead channeling everything into low and measured sounds. Ignis joked that she sounded like an out-of-tune trombone, and she smacked him hard. 

The more painful it got, the harder Aranea squeezed, and the sweatier her hands became. When it came time to push, she had grabbed onto Ignis’ arm, holding onto his bicep, and squeezed so hard that she dug right through the skin, leaving a permanent mark. He didn’t mind though; he gritted through the pain because he knew this was hard for her. And he was soon rewarded with the most beautiful and harrowing thing that Ignis had ever heard when Lucie’s first sound in the world carried through the air and reached his ears and changed his life forever. 

Aranea squeezed his hand again, and Ignis was back in the movie theatre. He returned the squeeze and seemed to have calmed down, so Aranea quietly removed her hand while Ignis casually wiped a tear away as the credits rolled and the lights came on. 

After the movie, Ignis and Aranea walked back to her place in silence. Ignis didn’t even ask if he could sleep there and Aranea didn’t offer; it just felt like a given. 

Once they were back at her dorm, they got ready for bed in silence. Finally, Aranea broke. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Ignis replied. 

Aranea considered her next words and then decided simply on, “Never mind.” 

“I’m very tired. If you don’t mind, I would like to retire for the night,” Ignis said.

“Yeah, sure. Oh, and I forgot to mention. Tomorrow’s Monday, so the shop’s actually closed. You’re off the hook for the day.” 

“Very well.”

“Did you want to… meet me for lunch? I have a long break between my morning class and my exam. I could use some encouragement.” 

“Of course.” 

As they went to sleep, Ignis still felt the remnants of his episode. Could it have been because of Noctis, and the moment he discovered his slumped body on the throne? Those feeling of loss resurfacing because of the film? No, it didn’t seem right. It frightened Ignis that he couldn’t quite figure it out either. 

Just breathe, he told himself. 

—

Aranea was up early the next morning for her class, though not early enough to beat Ignis to making coffee. He appeared to be in a better mood, and Aranea didn’t press it any further. In some part, she almost wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. 

Ignis walked her to class and they agreed to meet there in a few hours, giving Ignis plenty of time to wander the campus. He figured he would visit the campus library, having exhausted most of the public one’s books. Surely he would find more academic research papers here—maybe even a better clue. 

The library was a good 15 minute walk away. Ignis looked up at the open sky as he strolled, relieved to be in this less invasive part of Gralea. Here, there were no looming buildings, and the air was cleaner. The grounds were covered in small patches of snow, but the sky was blue and the sun felt strong. The last few days had been distracting, but Ignis now made a concerted effort to appreciate the things that he could see. 

He entered a large red brick building that held a sign for the library. It also had an auditorium, and it was the voice coming from within that stopped Ignis dead in his tracks as he walked by the ajar door. 

“Today, I am here not as a figure of authority, but as your friend, here to offer sound advice for your political futures,” the voice said. 

It flowed out smoothly, a pleasant and seemingly jovial tone, but with a subtle intertwining of dormant malice that sent shivers down Ignis’ spine. He walked over to the auditorium door with trepidation, swallowed, and opened the door. 

Ardyn Izunia stood at the podium, arms open like a welcoming embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Ignis has some choice words for Ardyn, and will Aranea pass her exam? 
> 
> Things should start ramping up more next chapter! It might take a couple of weeks to get it out though, as HighSpecs Week is happening Sept 23-29 and I plan to create a whole lotta content for it. 
> 
> Speaking of, if you're interested in participating, the prompts can be found at https://highspecsweek.tumblr.com/ and under @highspecsweek on Twitter! 
> 
> Finally, comments and kudos are always very much appreciated :)


	5. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn Izunia presents a surprising opportunity to Ignis. Aranea gets a kiss. All that studying finally pays off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took a while! Life stuff, y'know... 
> 
> I've got the next chapter already started, so I'm hoping it'll move along faster, though I have a really busy couple of months ahead. But I will do my best! I'm excited for the chapter after this, as our favorite sunshine boy enters the picture :D

For a long time, Ardyn Izunia was the stuff of Ignis’ nightmares. At first, he would kick and squirm in bed alone. He would wake in a pool of sweat, with no one to comfort him. Well, not entirely—he would frequently wake to Prompto’s surprisingly firm and reassuring hands on his shoulders. But after he would calm down and Prompto would tuck him back into bed, Ignis would feel the eerie coldness of his dark and lonely world, with only flashbacks of Ardyn to keep him company. 

Over time, he got accustomed to this world. Ardyn still showed up every few nights, and Ignis would tremble awake, but he no longer woke Prompto or Gladio with his nightmares. When he wasn’t dreaming of Ardyn, Ignis would remain only in a tolerable sleep, nothing like the deep and comforting nights he had known back in Lucis. 

The first night he slept next to Aranea, it was in a tent. Nothing had really happened between them yet, but Ignis had found himself talking easily about his life with the dragoon. It took him by surprise. Maybe it took her by surprise too—there was certainly an air of something being discovered for the both of them. After that night, Ignis woke to only the faintest of sweat from his nightmares. 

The first night they made love, they fell asleep in that tent, limbs tangled in relief. Ignis slept better than he could ever remember. 

After, it was a game of push and pull for a long time, but Ignis knew one thing: he always slept the best when he was next to Aranea. 

But now, seeing Ardyn in the flesh felt like a nightmare he wasn’t about to escape. At their last encounter, he only heard the Chancellor speak as he claimed the throne in Insomnia. Then, it was left to Noctis—and Noctis never returned. The last time Ignis actually saw Ardyn with his own eyes, however… 

Now, here was Ardyn again, giving a talk to students at Aranea’s university, speaking to them as their chummiest friend. The nerve. 

Ignis waited in the hallway, just outside the doors. He fidgeted with his shirt hem, running his hands through his hair periodically. Then there was a sound of applause and the double doors swung open as the auditorium began to clear. Young, would-be politicians flooded out, but Ignis remained at the wall, eyes planted on the figure still at the podium. 

When the last of the students were gone and Ardyn was shaking the hands of a professor, Ignis pushed himself off the wall and marched through the doors. 

—

Ignis had been a no-show for lunch. Aranea told herself she wasn’t worried, he probably just forgot, though her movements betrayed some agitation. After she got tired of waiting, she considered sneaking in a beer, but went to a nearby cafe instead and, praise the Astrals, got some last minute studying in for her exam. Who was she? 

Now, sitting in the exam hall, Aranea was chewing her pencil again. She knew it couldn’t be good for her, but she loved the feeling of the soft wood giving way under her teeth, running her tongue over the cold round lead in the center. She was almost done the last question—the most challenging by far—and she was getting nervous. Time was tight, and she felt good about the rest of the exam, but this one question was worth a make-or-break amount. It was an essay asking to compare and contrast the political climates of Niflheim and Lucis in the 500s. 

Luckily, Ignis seemed to know an awful lot about this topic during their study sessions. Unluckily, she had been a bit too distracted to listen. 

She wasn’t sure what happened in that particular moment, as Ignis started walking her through this part of history in the library. Maybe she was tired or bored, but she found herself staring at Ignis’ lips as he spoke. The curves and dips and grooves took on a life of their own as he recounted the political makeup of the Lucis kingdom. She felt a stirring, a subtle longing. 

What had those lips been saying? What…? 

It must have registered somewhere, because Aranea sprung her pencil back to life and scrawled furiously. She wasn’t sure if she was making things up, but it didn’t matter—political inspiration was flowing through her. 

She slammed her pencil down in triumph a minute before the clock was up—another new triumph for her. She looked to her right, where Calvis was still finishing his essay, though he didn’t seem the least bit frazzled. He was simply the kind of guy that would use every second allotted to him. 

Aranea looked at his dark, curly hair. She studied his concentrated eyes. She moved to his lips and waited. Waited for the pang in her stomach, for that longing. 

Nothing. 

But look at his lips, she told herself. They’re sexy, kissable lips. 

Still nothing. 

The timer went off loudly and the professor ordered everyone to put their pencils down. Aranea looked at her half-chewed one and sighed. 

“How’d you do?” Calvis asked, stretching out. 

“I don’t know… Guess we’ll see,” Aranea shrugged. 

“How ’bout some food?” 

“I’m supposed to meet Ignis soon.” 

“Oh. Okay, I’ll wait with you then.” Aranea grabbed her things and stood up. 

“Sure.”

“So what’s the deal with him?” Calvis asked as they exited the exam room. 

“What do you mean? He works with me at Academy Weaponry.”

“Yeah, but why are you spending so much time with him?”

“What’s it to you?”

Calvis stopped, taking Aranea’s arm and turning her toward him. “What’s it to me? Seriously, Ara?” 

“We’re just friends. He’s a bit hard up, so I’m helping him out. That’s all.”That’s all. Yes, that’s all. 

(Those lips, though.)

Aranea turned and walked away, Calvis trailing behind her. She stepped outside the front doors of the building. 

There was still no sign of Ignis. 

—

The faculty lounge had semi-private meeting rooms with big, comfortable chairs. Ignis sat in a royal blue one, running his fingers across the velvet of the arms. Ardyn sat across from him on a love-seat, legs crossed casually and an arm draped across the back of the sofa. 

By some grace of the Astrals, Ignis had managed to avoid throwing any punches when he finally came face-to-face with Ardyn. It took him a while—he had to track him across the campus as Ardyn lunched with a professor, conversed with students, and then finally excused himself to the washroom. Ignis followed him in, and he could have very well beaten Ardyn to a pulp with the lid of a toilet tank right then and there. But who knew what that would do to his timeline? Still, Ignis couldn’t resist playing with fire, so he tapped Ardyn on the shoulder as the Chancellor washed his hands. 

“Ardyn Izunia,” Ignis said. “I need a word with you.”

“Of course, give me one moment if you will,” Ardyn replied jovially. 

Ignis waited. He didn’t know what he wanted exactly—he just knew he had to speak to him. 

“What is it that you need then?” Ardyn asked. “A bit of advice? Are you an older student here?” 

“I’m not from here.”

“Oh, a foreigner then? I do detect a Tenebraen accent.”

“I’m from Lucis. I am Ignis Scientia, advisor to Noctis Lucis Caelum. Currently I am only 14 years old in this timeline. According to my calculations, I come from about 18 years into the future.” 

Ardyn arched an eyebrow and studied Ignis’ face. He nodded and touched Ignis’ arm. The contact made him flinch. 

“Come,” Ardyn said. “Let us speak somewhere private, and a little more dignified.” 

The royal blue chair was certainly better than the men’s washroom. Even better was the audience on the other side of the meeting room’s window, no doubt ensuring that Ignis made no sudden moves. The air was tense, but Ignis felt that contribution came mostly from him. Ardyn, on the other hand, simply seemed intrigued. 

“If what you say is true, then we must tread carefully,” Ardyn said calmly. “We wouldn’t want to mess up the world, now would we?” 

“No, I suppose not,” Ignis said. 

“You want something from me. What is it? I take it we are acquainted in your timeline.” 

“‘Acquainted’ is an interesting way of putting it.” 

“I see.” 

“What can I say. You haven’t exactly left a fond impression on me.” 

“I am so sorry to hear that,” and for a moment, Ardyn sounded almost sincere. “You see, things surrounding the young Noctis Lucis Caelum are, shall we say, complicated.” 

“I am well aware.” 

“I must confess, I am very curious about what happens. Very curious indeed.” 

Ignis tried hard not to betray any emotion, but some subtle sadness must have escaped because Ardyn responded with a small nod and a hint of a smile. 

“Believe it or not,” he continued, “I truly am sorry for any misgivings. You seem like a fine young man, Ignis. Whatever it is that happened in your time, rest assured that I acted on what was necessary in the moment.” 

“Necessary?” Ignis seethed. “You ruined my life.”

“There must surely be a reason. I never act out of malice alone.”

“Your ‘reasons’ evade me.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what to say.” Ardyn thought for a moment. “Except that I am sorry, whatever it is that I have done to harm you.” 

Ignis leaned back into his chair. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t an apology. _You blinded me, you bastard,_ he thought. 

Ardyn seemed to register just how deep the injustices went for Ignis. 

“I know it won’t make up for it, but if I can help you with anything right now, do let me know,” he said. 

Ignis stood up sharply. Can you give my vision back? Can you bring Noctis back? Can you undo everything that lead us to this? He wanted to say all of this to Ardyn, but kept his mouth shut instead and began to walk away. 

“Now, don’t leave like that,” Adryn called after him. “Surely there’s something I can do, as Chancellor.”

Ignis stopped and rolled his eyes as the realization hit him. Dammit. 

“There is one thing…” he said. “I need to get to Lucis.” 

“I take it you’re hoping to find some help there for your little time travel problem?”

“I believe it’s connected to the crystal somehow.”

“And King Regis might be able to help you.”

“Precisely.” 

“You need papers, a valid train ticket. It won’t be easy, but I can arrange something.” 

Ignis turned around, looking at his first bit of hope since he woke up in Niflheim, and it was Ardyn Izunia of all people. 

“Two sets,” Ignis added, though he had no idea why. Aranea couldn’t possibly come with him, but he spoke before he could stop himself. 

“Very well. I will need at least a week.”

Ignis nodded, then forced himself to spit the words out. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I’m certain I owe you more than this.”

Ardyn rose and walked past Ignis. 

“Where shall I drop them off?”

“Academy Weaponry. I’m… working there.”

“I shall have it next week, if all goes well.” Ardyn paused looked over his shoulder, as if considering something. “Noctis. Does he…. succeed?”

Ignis gave the slightest, most imperceptible of nods. He knew what this meant—nothing would change Ardyn’s path. He would get exactly what he wanted, and so would Noctis. 

“Good.”

Ardyn walked away without another word, though his walk seemed a touch heavier. Ignis finally released the fists he had apparently been holding his hands in and sighed. 

No punching or long-withheld vengeance, but a way to Lucis instead. And a way to Aranea and Lucie. That was certainly something. 

—

“He’s not coming, Ara,” Calvis said. 

“You don’t have to keep waiting with me, you know.”

“Just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m great.” 

Calvis shook his head and stepped right up to Aranea, who was leaning against a wall. He was close, but not too close, as if he knew better. 

“I’m worried about you,” he said. “You’ve been acting different since this guy showed up. Like during our date the other night—”

“Look, I was just tired.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” 

“Yeah.” 

Calvis held his breath a moment. “Kiss me then,” he said. 

“Right now?” 

“Yeah. I missed your kiss on our date.”

Calvis gave such a charming smile, Aranea felt her muscles mellowing. She dipped her head up just enough to give him the go-ahead, and Calvis leaned in. Their lips brushed and then pressed together, the kiss getting deeper. 

Aranea found her mind wandering though. She was back in the movie theatre, taking hold of Ignis’ hand, but it didn’t stop there. No, she was turning to him, touching his jaw gently to turn his face to hers and—

“Ahem…” 

Aranea and Calvis pulled apart to find Ignis standing a few feet away, trying hard to look casual. 

“Apologies for interrupting,” he said, and Aranea was pretty certain his voice was too straight, too static, even for him. 

“You missed lunch,” Aranea said, crossing her arms. She felt a strange resentment now, at his disappearance. 

“Something… came up,” Ignis explained. “I bumped into an old acquaintance. He might be able to help me.” 

“Oh? How so?”

“He’s getting some information for me.” And some papers for the two of us to travel to your country’s enemy territory, but Ignis opted to leave that part out. 

“Sounds promising.” Aranea shifted, putting a bit of distance between her and both of the men. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but after this exam, I’m starving,” Calvis offered. 

“I’m afraid I’m not entirely in the mood for dinner,” Ignis said, “but you two go ahead.” 

Ignis held his breath, watching Aranea’s eyes pass from him to Calvis. 

“Thanks Cal, but I’m beat,” Aranea said. “But let me know how your results go tomorrow.” 

Calvis’ cocky grin waned. 

“No problem, Ara. Fingers crossed for Tenerbae!” He bounced down the stairs as if he didn’t care about her rejection, but the scowl he shot Ignis as he passed by him said otherwise. How worth it to have his sight again, Ignis thought, for the pleasure of seeing that expression. 

“Okay, let’s grab some dinner then,” Aranea said, once Calvis was out of earshot. 

“I thought you were too tired?” Ignis replied. 

“And I thought you weren’t in the mood. But you did help me study, and I have a good feeling about this exam. It’s time to celebrate.” 

“Bit presumptuous, don’t you think? 

“Nah. Even if I failed, I actually studied for this. That in itself is a reason to celebrate. Besides, you owe me for lunch.”

“Whatever the lady wants.”

—

Dinner was in a grimy hole of a place that Insomnia-era Ignis would have shifted uncomfortably in, wary of cockroaches and spit in his food. But post-World of Ruin Ignis had seen much worse. 10 years of darkness had knocked him down a few rungs on the culinary scale, and his appreciation for making do with what you’ve got had greatly developed. And this Gralean dive of a restaurant was certainly making do. 

It was also one of Aranea’s favorites. 

“It’s cheap, it’s greasy, and the servers ignore you. It’s perfect,” she had said as they walked in through uneven doors with chipped red paint. 

A melted candle in the center of the table barely cast enough light on their meals to know what they were eating, and it was probably for the best. It did, however, glow on Aranea’s face warmly, accentuating her eyes and lips. After a couple of glasses of cheap liquor, Ignis was entranced. 

Aranea in soft lighting. Aranea, smiling and warm. Aranea, glowing like Ifrit himself had blessed her. 

“Cheers,” she said, raising a glass, “to a most excellent partnership.”

“Cheers,” Ignis echoed, clinking his glass to hers. “I meant to say, I’m sorry for, uh, interrupting earlier.” 

“Interrupting?” 

“Your moment with Calvis…”

Ignis hated it. He hated it with all of his being. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t even know what was going on.” 

“I’d say it was pretty clear.” 

“Yeah, but… I don’t know what’s happening, you know, between Calvis and I.” 

Ignis groaned internally at what he was about to say. 

“You like him.” 

“Yeah, I guess I do…” 

Their eyes met, and Ignis sensed there was a “but” coming. Aranea took a bite of her food instead. She chewed for a while, and Ignis continued eating as well, both silent. Then Aranea put her fork down, taking a quick swig of her drink, then another.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked quickly. 

“Pardon?” Ignis said, almost choking. 

“In loooove? Have you ever been?”

Ignis slowly put down his fork. 

The glow on her face, the shape of her lips… 

“Yes.” 

“Oh. So you remember it then?”

“I do. I remember falling in love with her.” 

Aranea leaned in closer. “Tell me.” 

He could almost smell her now—familiar, heady, nostalgic. 

It was just the same on that rainy evening too. It was a simple moment, really. Prompto and Gladio had been out on missions, and Ignis was only allowed to join them occasionally, putting his tactical side to better use alongside Cor instead. Aranea had surprised him, back early from a daemon clear-out mission. She had showered, they had sex, and they were curled up in Ignis’ bed, her head on his chest—their usual routine at this point. The window was open, the air was heavy, and there had been a recent storm. 

Ignis had started staying overnight at Aranea’s apartment, but she had never stayed in the hotel room he shared with the guys on those rare occasions that both Prompto and Gladio were away. It was her way of keeping that little bit of distance between them, which is why her barely audible whisper surprised Ignis. 

“I’ll stay here overnight,” Aranea said. 

Even with his sharp hearing, Ignis questioned what he had heard, but then she planted a little kiss on his chest and nuzzled her face into his neck. She breathed in deeply. Ignis dipped his lips into her hair, and her arm curled around the back of his head. He could feel her soft skin grazing his jaw, could catch her natural scent. 

Maybe it was predictable, but the fact that he didn’t want to share this closeness with anyone else ever again was what did it. 

So yes, he just knew. He had known for a long time, but at that point he really knew. 

“She was like no one else,” Ignis said, looking at Aranea as she leaned in across the table. “Strong, brave, opinionated, a bit abrasive, but infinitely kind. She hated to admit this though, so she kept up a strong front. But I loved how much she cared. I loved how gentle she really was, and how I was one of the few to know this side. One night, I realized I didn’t ever want to be with anyone else.” 

“What happened to her?” 

“She…” Ignis didn’t know what to do, because all he wanted to say was, “She’s right here. It’s you.” 

“That was another lifetime,” he said instead. 

“Hmm…” Aranea looked thoughtful, sad even. “I wish someone would talk about me the way you talk about her. Maybe one day.” She waved her hand in front of her, as if banishing the thought, and took a drink. “Well, anyway. Thanks again for all of your help with studying. Guess we’ll find out what the fruits of our labor bore tomorrow.” 

Ignis reached out and took her hand, Aranea shooting a surprised look at him. 

“You’ll do great,” he said, keeping his hand firmly on hers.

She gave him a squeeze in return. “You sure you weren’t a professor in a previous life? Cause you’re a surprisingly good teacher, stranger.” 

Stranger. 

Ignis took his hand back, the sharp reminder jarring him, and focused on finishing his plate again. 

Stranger. 

His Aranea would roll her eyes at how this hurt him. _Relax,_ she would say. _She (or I) don’t know any better. You know I love you._

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some rest soon,” Ignis said. “It has been an eventful day.” 

“Yeah, sure. We’ve got an early start at the shop tomorrow too.”

—

Sleep came in short, restless spurts for Ignis. He kept feeling like he was tumbling, falling, trapped inside something, but it was so dark. Panic set in every time, and he’d wake with a start, heart racing and breathing heavy. 

When the sun finally crept in, Ignis turned on the couch to face Aranea, sleeping deeply on her bed across the room. She was on her back, an arm draped above her head, her mouth a bit open, letting out a gentle snore. He adored her like this. He adored her even more because if he were to point it out to her, she would laugh and tell him she was off the clock from looking sexy between midnight and 7 am. 

Ignis felt the pang of missing Aranea stronger than ever. Maybe it was the dreams, but he also felt a certain panic set in at the thought of never seeing his own version of her ever again. What if he never found a way back? What would happen to her? What would happen to Lucie? 

But at the same time, he felt torn now too as he watched the younger Aranea sleeping. He felt an urge to be there for her, help her and guide her as she navigated these murky waters where she was nearly not a student anymore, but not yet a fully-fledged adult either. He remembered those times well, and it had been wrought with anxiety for Ignis. But then, he rarely made anything easy for himself. 

Ignis knew these thoughts weren’t getting him anywhere, so he got up instead and started making coffee. 

Coffee was good. Coffee was familiar. Coffee smelled like comfort and home. 

—

Aranea was nervous. She kept checking her phone for any updates on her exam, and seemed distracted at work. She would frequently forget what customers were asking for, or nearly give them incorrect change at the till. Ignis, of course, was right there to make sure no grave error occurred, and Aranea pretended she wasn't getting any help at all. It's what worked so well for them in married life—except it was usually the other way around. 

Aranea would always be there to help, and Ignis would pretend he had everything under control, even if Aranea was the one making sure he didn't accidentally put salt instead of sugar into the pie. It was a quiet agreement between the two of them, and apparently their dynamic in this world too. 

It was already late afternoon when Ignis heard Aranea whelp in an unusual way. 

"Everything alright?" he asked. 

She looked at him, phone in hand, eyes wide. 

"I have an email with the results. Gods, I'm too nervous to even open it."

"Aranea, it's fine. Whatever happens, you'll be fine. Just open it." 

Aranea took a deep breath and handed her phone to Ignis instead. 

"You do it. Please. I've never been this nervous over a stupid test before!" 

"Very well."

Ignis tapped on the subject line and opened the email. He read the results with a concentrated look, then raised his eyes and smiled. 

"Congratulations—"

Aranea screamed and jumped on Ignis, taking him so off guard he had to hold onto the cashier countertop not to fall over. Aranea wrapped her arms and legs around him, screaming "Yes!" and kicking her heels wildly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and laughed. He really was proud of her. 

"Wow..." Aranea said. "Well, Ignis. Guess we're going to Tenebrae!"

"Guess we are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Ignis finds an old ally in Tenebrae, and Aranea prepares to kick some ass. Angsty HighSpecs tension rises. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, your comments are soooo very much welcome. I just want to make sure everyone is still enjoying this story :D


	6. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis meets a familiar face in Tenebrae. Aranea's suspicions about Ignis grow—as do her feeeels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of an exposition one, leading to some fun stuff in the next couple. Hope it's still enjoyable though!

The train ride to Tenebrae was long and uneventful. Ignis and Aranea passed the time talking, and Aranea seemed particularly interested in prying out information on Ignis' past. When he seemed hesitant, she suggested that asking so many questions might help jog his memory. Ignis, of course, insisted it was as hazy as the first day they met. 

He did, however, feed her little nuggets here and there, telling her stories about his childhood or his closest friends. He kept any real names out of it, and changed details as needed so as not to rouse her suspicions. 

"What about that acquaintance you ran into at my school? Who exactly was he?" Aranea asked. 

"You're being very curious today." 

"I've been spending all this time with you. I figured I should know something about you beyond your name—if Ignis is even your real name, that is."

"It is indeed."

"Stop changing the subject. Who was your acquaintance?"

"No one important. Just a man I once met a long time ago through mutual friends." 

"Your childhood friends?"

"Yes." 

"Did he know anything about them?"

"No, he hadn't seen them recently." 

"Did he know anything about you?"

"Not much. We met only briefly. He simply recalled my face."

"Okay, but who is he? What was he doing at my school?"

Ignis weighed his options. He knew he couldn't tell her it was Chancellor Izunia. 

"He was a guest lecturer on political history."

"Sound exhilarating," Aranea said, snorting. 

"Let's talk about you now," Ignis said, nudging her shoulder with his. 

“About what?"

“About what weapon you're planning on using at the Academy Brawl." 

"Oh..." Aranea shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "The sword."

“Hmm. Have I not successfully convinced you of the pole arms?"

“I considered it, but I need to be comfortable. I need to go with what I already know I'm good at. I can't afford to lose this, you know?"

“But you certainly excel with pole arms. You show great promise."

"It's my decision, okay?"

"Right. Apologies."

Aranea let out an audible sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm just nervous."

"I know," Ignis said, tapping her thigh with a reassuring hand and then removing it as he realized that it might have crossed a boundary—though it was starting to be more difficult to tell what those boundaries were. 

"You're going to do even better than on your test, darling, I’m sure of it,” Ignis added. 

"Darling? You never called me that before."

"Just a habit."

“Why, you call every woman you meet 'darling'?"

"No..." Just you, Ignis thought. 

Aranea shrugged and leaned closer to the window, looking at the passing landscape. It was turning ever more beautiful and varied, a far cry from the industrial wasteland surrounding Gralea. 

"So pretty," she said. “I’ve never been this far out of Gralea before.” 

"What about where you grew up?"

"It was just outside of Gralea. Pretty depressing place…"

Something about Aranea’s past never quite added up to Ignis, but he never pressed her. He wasn’t about to start now. 

“I didn’t really have a normal family,” she added, but then grew very quiet. 

Ignis leaned over and looked out the window instead, feeling their breathing move in time. The train thundered through calm vistas of mountains, snow-capped and overwhelmingly large, and past vast openings that left Ignis catching his breath at the magnificence of it all. He had missed so much in his decade of darkness. 

His hand instinctively went to his inner coat pocket, feeling the photograph of Aranea and Lucie—a habit he often did when away from them during the world of darkness. They were still there with him, and he was slowly making his way back—even if the way wasn't exactly straightforward. 

He would find Luna. He would ask her to get word to Regis. Ardyn, of all people, would help secure documents for him to finally make his way to Lucis. As for Aranea, well... he did ask for a second set of papers. But why? What compelled him to? Ignis began to wonder if there was some grander reason to this, as if he was destined to meet this younger Aranea and take her to Lucis. But how would that lead to her becoming Commodore of the Niflheim army in eight year's time? No, it didn't make sense. He was playing with fire by taking her to Lucis, and he knew it. 

Still, he so wanted to keep her close. 

—

Ignis never did get to actually see Tenebrae when he had finally arrived there with Gladio and Noctis about 10 years ago. He could catch the faint scent of sylleblossoms mixed with smoke and hear the sadness in its residents' voices at the demise of Lady Lunafreya, but he could not see the magical way the castle seemingly floated above the rest of the city, even as it burned. To say he was in awe was an understatement. 

Aranea felt the same. She found Tenebrae so different from Gralea—cleaner, majestic—even though she would barely give it a passing thought in a decade's time. There would be far more sinister things to consider in her future; it would be life or death. 

But this trip was more do or die. Aranea was on a mission to prove herself, and failure was not an option. She had to win this. 

A shuttle bus took the Academy Brawl participants from the train station to their hotel in the center of town. Calvis had caught sight of Aranea and Ignis as they boarded the bus, and he now hung around like an annoying fly Ignis couldn't swat in public. Aranea flirted with Calvis, much to Ignis' annoyance, but there was nothing to be done but seethe in silence. 

Everyone had their own small room with just the essentials. Although it would have normally been borderlining on insufficient for Ignis, having a real bed to sleep on after so many nights on a couch felt like an utter luxury. He stretched out on the bed and sighed. He then turned to look out the window; he had a partial view of the castle from there. He thought again of Luna and how he might find her, but he had no plan. 

He would have to do the only thing that seemed to work these days: walk around and let fate guide him. 

—

Aranea had gone to a practice session for all of the participants, so Ignis took this opportunity to explore the town. He made his way to the local market, always a sure place to find a tipster or two. It was bustling thanks to the influx of visitors, and Ignis slipped through the crowd stealthily, more aware than ever of the Niflheim guards positioned about the place; they seemed edgier than usual. 

Ignis knew that no one would recognize him though. He was not yet known as the Prince's advisor here; he was barely into his adolescent years in this timeline. But habit made him vigilant nonetheless. 

Ignis found a chocobo stall and thought he might try his luck there. Chocobos meant travelers looking for a ride and local tips, so it seemed as good a place as any to start. There was a crowd gathered to feed and cuddle the docile creatures, and Ignis could see the handler just beyond the sea of heads. He moved closer, noticing the handler was speaking to a scruffy-haired blonde man. 

Ignis waited patiently behind the man. He couldn't make out what they were talking about with the chattering around him, but the man seemed agitated—something about not having enough money to actually rent a chocobo, but could the handler please help him this one time. 

Ignis frowned. Something about the voice seemed familiar. 

He looked at the details of the man for the first time. He wore a black sleeveless jacket, and underneath it a piece flannel hung out, further jarring that sense of familiarity. 

No, it couldn't be. 

Ignis tapped the man on the shoulder, and he turned around. 

Ignis gasped. 

"Prompto." 

"Iggy?" 

—

Prompto nervously twisted a blade of grass between his fingers. He was sitting next to Ignis on a bench by a pond, looking like two old friends awkwardly catching up to any outsider. 

“This is crazy,” he said. “It’s nuts, Iggy. I was just with you guys hours ago, and then all of a sudden… I just appeared here.”

“And you woke up in Tenebrae?”

“Yeah, like a 20 minute walk from the city center, in a forested area.”

Lucky for him, avoiding hours of walking in the snow, Ignis thought. 

“But you, you’re not the Ignis from my timeline,” Prompto added in wonder. “You’re older.”

“Yes. About a decade or so.”

“Wow.” Prompto looked Ignis up and down. “This is gonna sound weird, but you look really handsome.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m just saying, you’ve aged well.” 

“Handsome is an interesting choice of word.”

“First one to come to mind.” 

“It’s good to see you too, Prompto,” Ignis smiled. 

“Guess I haven’t looked this young to you in a while.”

“No.”

“Wait…” Prompto’s eyes darted wildly as a thought came to him. “You’ve seen me recently though, right? Like, I’m alive?”

“Yes, Prompto, you are in good health.” 

“Phew! So what happens in the future? Is Noct king?”

“It’s best I don’t tell you too much, Prompto. You don’t want to accidentally make decisions that affect outcomes.”

“Right. Good point.”

“Where exactly are you in your timeline again? Perhaps we can figure out what sent us both back.” 

“We were in Steyliff Grove, looking for mythril.”

“Steyliff Grove? With Aranea?”

“Uh, yeah. She’s helping us out. Still not sure what to make of her, being a Nif and all, but she seems pretty cool.”

Ignis sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He was half hoping that Prompto hadn’t met Aranea yet, so he didn’t have to explain the younger version he’d been spending so much time with. But now, Prompto will surely catch onto him. 

“There’s something you should know about her, but you have to promise that you won’t do anything dangerous with this information.”

“Me? Of course not!” 

“Prompto, I’m serious.”

“So am I! I won’t do anything stupid.” 

“Okay… We know Aranea quite well in the future. She defected from the Empire and has become one of our closest allies.”

“No way! That’s awesome.”

“There’s more. Her and I are… close.”

Prompto eyed Ignis, trying to discern how much he should be reading into this. 

“Close?” he asked. 

“Very close. We are together.”

“WHAT?! You mean like, together-together? That’s insane! You and Aranea?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that explains the subtle flirting I’ve been witnessing all day at Steyliff.” 

“We were not flirting back then.”

“Really, Iggy? I don’t notice many things and even I noticed that.”

“May I finish?”

“There’s more?”

“I found her. Here.”

“Aranea?”

“Yes. I came to Tenebrae with her.”

“Is she from this timeline?”

“Yes. I found her in Gralea by accident. She’s 22 here, about 8 years before you meet her.”

“Does she know about you guys being a thing?”

“No. And you cannot tell her—nor can you influence us in your own timeline when you get back.”

“But Ignis, think about it. What if you two only ever get together because of the meddling you instigate by telling me about this right here, right now? What if I had to come back in time for you guys to ever happen? This is all so connected, Iggy. My mind is being blown!” 

“Please do try to keep it in one piece for now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me, Iggy. I’ve got everything under control.” 

—

Prompto’s mind was exploding. He stared out the window of Ignis’ hotel room, heart racing, as he waited for Ignis to return with lunch. The sight of a bustling Tenebrae below made him twitchy, and the fact that Ignis had suddenly aged 10 years and wasn’t wearing glasses unsettled him. 

Most unsettling, however, was Noctis—or the lack thereof. Prompto hated to admit it, but without Noctis around, he felt quite lost. He understood why Ignis would get involved with younger Aranea, given the circumstances. 

Except Noctis in this timeline would only be, what, about 12? They aren’t even friends yet. Prompto would be the same age and feeling a bit better about himself, losing weight and getting a little more confident each day, but he wouldn’t befriend Noctis for another couple of years. 

Worse still, this little interruption to his own timeline couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient moment. The thing that happened between them just a few days ago, at Cape Caem, was far from resolved—if it could ever even be resolved. 

Prompto’s stomach twisted into knots at the thought of this. The air wasn’t cleared—it was downright suffocating—and all he wanted was to talk. 

_Hey Noct, you know that thing that happened the other night? We’re cool, right? Never has to happen again!_

That is, if that’s what he wanted. But Prompto had no idea what he wanted. 

Ignis entered with a bag in hand and sat on the bed, unpacking sandwiches and salads. 

“Salads? Really Ignis?” 

“Noct’s not here, you can stop pretending you hate greens.” 

“What? I don’t do that!”

Ignis blinked, putting the timelines in place. 

“That’s right,” he said. “You only admitted you’ve been feigning your distaste for the greener things in life once Noct was—”

Ignis paused, realizing he hadn’t told Prompto this part—that Noctis had disappeared into the crystal. 

“Pay no heed. Noctis just had to do his own thing for a time.” 

“How long of a time?”

“I can’t go into details.”

“How long, Ignis?”

Panic was rising in Prompto’s voice, and Ignis dropped his sandwich. 

“Prompto, please. I cannot and will not tell you more. It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah? And it’s not dangerous that you’ve apparently been hanging out with Aranea, staying at her place, helping her study, and going for movie dates?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“You’re playing with fire, but you won’t tell me what happens to Noct.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you, Iggy? Cause you seem just as lost as I am.”

“Come, eat something. You must be starving.”

It was true, Prompto hadn’t eaten in a while, so he sat on the bed and begrudgingly bit into his sandwich. 

“This is pretty good,” he admitted. 

“I asked them to add aegir root. Brings out the flavor.”

The two sat in silence for a while as they ate, Prompto feeling a little better now that he was getting full. After a while, Ignis spoke. 

“I’m not trying to hide anything from you, Prompto. I just… I can’t risk anymore than I already have.”

“Then you should probably stop hanging out with Aranea, Iggy. You know it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s very difficult.”

“I know. I miss Noct too, you know.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow at this, at a shift in Prompto’s voice. 

“I mean, it’s not the same as Aranea, obviously,” he continued. “But he’s still my best friend.”

Ignis considered something a moment, then got up and walked over to his jacket on the back of a chair. He reached into the inner pocket, carefully taking out the folded photo. 

“I want to show you something. Perhaps this will help you understand why I’m finding it particularly difficult to stay away from Aranea.”

He handed the photo to Prompto and turned away; he still wasn’t ready to see it for himself. Prompto unfolded it and Ignis could hear the sudden intake of breath. 

“Iggy… you guys have a daughter?” 

“Yes—Lucie.”

“Holy shit!”

“So you see, it’s not just about Aranea. It’s about our family. I… miss them very much.” 

He spoke this last part almost inaudibly, but Prompto understood. 

“She’s beautiful. Looks a lot like Aranea, but she’s definitely got your attitude.”

“That she does. You took that photo, you know.”

“Yep, looks like my excellent handiwork. Hey, what’s on her eye? The right one’s covered.”

“A daemon attack—a hoard of goblins. We didn’t get there in time.”

Ignis spoke this matter-of-factly, the only way he knew how to say it without becoming emotional. It still hurt him that he couldn’t fully protect Lucie. 

“She was so positive about it,” Ignis added. “She liked to say she was now half like me.”

“What does that mean?” Prompto asked. 

Of course. Prompto wouldn’t know that Ignis went blind. 

“Prompto, I can’t—”

“Another secret?” He looked at the photo again. “You have some pretty serious scars here.”

“They’re healed now.”

“Nice shades though. Hey, where are your glasses, Iggy?”

“I must have lost them before I time traveled.”

“Can you see?”

“Better than I have in a long time.”

Prompto raised his brows, but decided not to pursue it any further. Perhaps he knew better than to push Ignis, or maybe he just didn’t want to hear the truth. 

“Well, guess what? I have something for you.” 

Ignis turned around as Prompto reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a familiar set of frames.

“Prompto, how…?”

“Last thing I remember is that we were fighting some daemons. You dropped your glasses, and I went to grab them for you. The room was a mess and it had fallen into some rubble. When I touched them, that’s when I was transported, or whatever. They were still in my hands when I woke up.”

Ignis took the glasses and put them on. He looked in the mirror mounted atop a dresser across from the bed, and smiled. Finally, someone he recognized. 

“Don’t forget your photo,” Prompto said, offering it to Ignis. 

Ignis took it without looking, folded it, and returned it to his jacket pocket. 

“Aranea should be finished practice soon. I assume it will be impossible to hide you here, so are you ready to meet her instead?”

“Uh, yeah! Sure!”

“Good,” Ignis said, adjusting his glasses and smiling with genuine excitement. “Let’s get our story straight then.”

—

Aranea was no fool; she knew there were holes in this story, well-concocted as it may have been. She knew Ignis was hiding many things, and this new companion of his only added to the questions. 

An old acquaintance, of course. Suffering from a similar memory-inflicted malady, naturally. They simply remembered one another, and it was all just a joyous coincidence that they had found one another here in Tenebrae. 

Aranea, however, knew that there were many secrets that Ignis kept—she had a sixth sense for such things. But she was curious too, and ambitious. Her suspicions that Ignis was a Lucian spy were only further stoked by this new companion and mutterings of an impending Lucian invasion. Imagine the recognition she would get if she got enough proof and took them down singlehandedly. 

There was only one complication. Spy or not, she had been enjoying her time with Ignis. He made her laugh and feel protected and, sometimes, the way he looked at her was unnerving in a most spectacular way. 

But these were new sensations for Aranea. And so, she ignored them. 

Now, this new companion of Ignis—this Prompto figure—was another story. He seemed nervous, even afraid of her. Perhaps he knew she could blow their cover, should the right moment come. Still, for now she would play along. 

“Well, boys, lucky me that I have two of you here now.”

“Oh? Why?” Prompto asked. 

“Don’t you know? The first night of the Brawl always consists of a huge party. And you two are going to be my dates.” 

She smiled sweetly as she watched both men break into a sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: It's a triple date! But Calvis still has his sights set on Aranea too... 
> 
> Episode Ignis is almost here! I'm wondering how it's going to impact things in this story... Well, next chapter will be some fluffy-angsty HighSpecs and Promptis fun, and I have a feeling we're gonna need it after the DLC! 
> 
> This was a bit shorter, but let me know what you think :D If you've been reading but never commented, I'd be so curious to hear your thoughts. And a huge thank you to everyone that has been following and leaving feedback <3


	7. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis, Aranea, and Prompto hit up a party, but things don't go too smoothly. Ignis can't catch a break, Prompto recalls a game-changing moment with Noctis, and Aranea makes a big decision. Fluff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! It's done! A new chapter! I'm so sorry it took a while. It's been difficult with the holidays and life in general. I really do have every intent to get faster though.

It was a beautiful evening. Unlike the cold and imposing facade of Gralea, Tenebrae exuded warmth, sunset shades cast along its streets and buildings as the night set it. 

Aranea breathed in every inch of it. It was so different from what she knew, and it was igniting something within her in that subtle way that only newly discovered cities can. She was starting to think that there was more to life than Gralea and the Empire and conflict and winning and—

“Aranea? You’ve gone quiet.” 

She turned at the sound of Ignis’ voice, still amused at the sight of his glasses—another unexplained mystery as to how he got them. They were on their way to the Academy Brawl’s opening party along with Prompto, each man on either side of Aranea. She had an opportunity to get something out of them, a slip that could confirm that they were indeed Lucian spies, and here she was getting lost in thoughts that were probably pointless. 

“I was just thinking,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“So it’s really okay that you’re taking both of us to this party?” Prompto asked. 

“The invitation said guests are welcome,” Aranea replied. “I guess most people bring their families or something.”

“Where’s yours?”

“Not here.”

Ignis shot Prompto a warning look behind Aranea’s back. 

“Well, you got us! Better than nothing, right?” Prompto laughed. 

To his surprise, and to her own as well, Aranea gave him a warm smile. 

“Lucky me,” she said, and there was nothing facetious about it. 

—

Everything was as immaculate as Ignis had anticipated from Tenebrae. The party was taking place in a large manor with expansive grounds, impressively kept. The catering was some of the finest Ignis had ever tasted, rivaling those of Insomnia. Even the usual rough and tumble Gralean students had cleaned up well. 

A shame that this was all for their enemy. 

Aranea had been resourceful as usual, finding a suit for Ignis to wear back in Gralea. He suspected it had come from Calvis, who was similar in build, but he tried not to think too hard about this. Prompto’s sudden appearance had proved to be trickier, but as luck would have it, another student had packed spare formal attire and was willing to lend it out. The only thing Prompto couldn’t hide were his rugged boots—the loans didn’t fit. 

Aranea, however, proved to be the most beautiful thing. She showed up at Ignis’ hotel door in an emerald green dress, draped around her with too exact a precision for something she had pulled off the rack. She fidgeted, looking very unsure of this formalwear business. 

Ignis all but crumbled. 

After some hors d’oeuvres, the three of them found a small table tucked away in the back of the dance hall. Although it wasn’t exactly Aranea’s scene, she seemed intent on studying the crowd. 

“Looking for someone?” Ignis asked, though he already suspected the answer. 

“Not really. Just wondering if Calvis is here yet,” she said. 

“Who’s Calvis?” Prompto asked. 

“A friend,” Aranea said, but the subtle shift on Ignis’ face gave Prompto all the information he needed. 

“I have no doubt he will grace us with his presence,” Ignis muttered. 

“Don’t care to see him again?” Aranea asked.

“On the contrary, I miss him already.”

“Uh, how about I get us some drinks?” Prompto said, feeling the tension rising. He slipped away before anyone could answer. 

Aranea eyed Ignis silently as he wondered if he’d gone a bit too far. 

“You know, you look pretty good in a suit,” Aranea said. 

“Thank you,” Ignis replied. “Why the compliment?”

“What? Can’t I tell a guy he looks good without getting the third degree?”

“Of course. If I didn’t say so earlier, you look beautiful.”

“You said it back at the hotel.”

“Right.”

“And on the walk over.”

“Did I?”

“And as we arrived. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

Aranea wiggled her eyebrows at Ignis, looking coy. He maintained a straight face though; he had long ago grown an immunity to this expression of hers, a necessity for when she was trying to get out of diaper duty. 

“I was merely being honest,” he replied. 

“Well, it’s nice, you know… getting a compliment.” 

“Do you not get many?”

“Nah. Not that kinda girl.”

Ignis had always showered his Aranea with compliments, persisting through every eye roll and smirk. He had never known her to be so starved for it. He could tell it hurt her on some level, but she hid it with a tight smile and a flip of her hair. It made him sad to see her this way. She deserved all the compliments in the world. She deserved everything. 

And he had been so good at giving her everything—until now. 

Ignis suddenly felt guilty. Was he failing Aranea—the one of his own timeline—by still being here? 

But this younger Aranea, she was still her. He could almost hear the older Aranea speaking to him: _Cheer me the fuck up already, look how sad I look!_

“Aranea,” he started, “you deserve every compliment. You are a fierce fighter, a true warrior, and, mostly importantly, a good person. And in case you haven’t heard it enough, you look stunning in that dress.” 

Her cheek twitched; she was trying not to smile. 

“Thank you.”

She broke and cracked a hint of a smile, small and a bit less tinged with insecurity. No, he didn’t need to validate her, he knew that. She would grow into the woman he knows before he would meet her in this timeline. But a few kind words never hurt anyone. 

—

Prompto waited by the bar, watching the bartender mix and stir the drinks. As he studied the ice swirling and cracking in the glass, he thought back to a few days ago. 

Ice. It had all started with ice. 

More specifically, an ice cube that Prompto had thrown down Noctis’ t-shirt as a joke. 

They were in Cape Caem. Ignis, Gladio, Iris, and the others were all outside while Prompto and Noctis came back to the house for a drink. Prompto had playfully put an ice cube down Noctis’ top and Noctis squirmed, lifting his shirt halfway up and revealing his stomach. 

There was a faint treasure trial running down his navel, and it was this little thing that set Prompto off. He wasn’t sure why this moment in particular—he had seen Noctis topless in the past—but something was different this time. He was waking up to the details now. 

“What are you looking at?” Noctis laughed. 

“Not much,” Prompto joked. 

“Right back at ya.” 

And then, without warning to either of them, Prompto kissed Noctis. 

—

“Drinks?” Prompto said, placing the glasses in front of Ignis and Aranea. 

“Thanks,” Aranea said. “You know what, I decided I like you.” 

“I guess that’s a good thing for the longevity of my lifespan?”

“You have no idea,” Ignis said, raising his glass. “To friends, old and new.”

The glasses clinked at the exact moment a voice as excruciating as nails on a chalkboard came careening in. 

“Aranea, here you are,” Calvis declared, and Ignis immediately winced. “You look beautiful. Why would you hide in the back corner?” 

“I’m not a show pony, Cal.” 

“Well, I think everyone should see you. Care to dance? Let’s give the people something to gawk at.”

Ignis swallowed the bile that came up his throat, and Prompto was far less subtle with a very visible eye roll. 

Calvis offered his hand to Aranea, who accepted. He won this round. 

“Excuse me, boys,” Aranea said. 

She walked off with Calvis, and Prompto looked at Ignis for a reaction, who remained alarmingly still. 

“Iggy?”

“Prompto, don’t.”

“Okay, but if you want me to do something…”

“There is nothing to be done. She is living her life. I have to let her.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Enough, Prompto. Please.” 

Ignis drained his drink, and then grabbed Aranea’s too. 

Prompto picked his words carefully. 

“I’m just putting this out there, but what if you meeting Aranea now really does matter? What if you were always meant to intervene in some way?” 

“What makes you say that?”

“Has she ever told you about this part of her past?”

“Not much. Only that, after she painstakingly graduated, she joined the military.”

“It’s just that, if you’re here now, haven’t you always been here? Hasn’t this always existed in her past? Isn’t the future that we know a result of this? Am I making any sense?”

“We can’t know for certain. It’s best I don’t meddle.”

“Iggy, if you’re not supposed to meddle, then why are we even here with her now?”

Ignis looked at Aranea on the dance floor with Calvis. He watched her spin and smile and laugh, and all of her movements looked so familiar, even if he hadn’t actually seen them. He had constructed her so well when he was blind. 

“We’re here because I can’t help it.” 

He remembered the first time they danced. It was in Lestallum during the darkness, and he didn’t want to, but she took him by the hand and pulled him onto the dance floor anyway. “No” was not a word she obeyed well. 

They were surprisingly in sync right from the start, though he knew her little at this point. He had been blind for several months and still learning to get around, but with Aranea at his side, he felt like he was in the light. She guided him so effortlessly, while still letting him feel in control. 

The most intoxicating moment, however, was when he had placed his hands around her and realized she was wearing a backless dress. Her skin was smooth and coated in a thin veil of sweat. He felt her warmth on his fingertips, and he knew he was in trouble. 

“If you want, I can at least kill Calvis for ya,” Prompto whispered, bringing Ignis back to the room. “He’ll never even see it coming.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid you shan’t be sharpshooting anyone tonight.” 

“Fine. But let me give you one bit of advice, Iggy. Stop torturing yourself.” 

“You’re right,” Ignis sighed. “Maybe we should go. Out of sight, out of mind…” 

The music quieted down and the lights dimmed as a spotlight illuminated an elevated podium at the opposite end of the room. Anima Vallis, the Academy’s director, took her place at the podium and began her welcome speech. Ignis saw Aranea stop dancing, but she remained standing next to Calvis. 

“Welcome, students and friends,” Anima began. “I am so proud of all of you for making it this far. I do hope you enjoy the festivities before we begin the official Trials tomorrow. We have a very special guest tonight to officially welcome you to Tenebrae. Please welcome to the stage… our very own Oracle, Miss Lunafreya Nox Fleuret!” 

Ignis’ jaw dropped as he watched Luna emerge with an escort of guards, taking her place at the podium as the audience clapped. 

Luna, right here. In the flesh. He was so close. 

“Welcome, students,” she began. “It is my distinct pleasure to invite you to the annual Academy Brawl—a practice rooted in the history of Niflheim.”

Something about her voice felt strained to Ignis; she wasn’t believing the words she was saying. 

“Although, as Oracle, I am a bringer of healing and peace, I can see the great dedication it takes to take up arms for your country. The fact that you are here tonight means that you are the best in the nation—you are Niflheim’s future. Enjoy your night; you’ve earned it.” 

The crowd erupted. How predictable of Niflheim to have a valued prisoner-of-war like Luna telling her own enemies how special they are. The guards escorted Luna off the stage and out of the room, and the music struck back up as the crowd resumed their dancing. 

“Wow, so that was Lady Lunafreya…” Prompto whispered. “She’s so beautiful, just like I always imagined.”

“You’ve seen plenty of photos of her,” Ignis said. 

“Yeah, but it’s not the same, is it? She really… radiates. Noct’s a lucky guy.” 

Ignis noted the sadness in Prompto’s voice. It wasn’t jealousy, but something else. Little did he know, Luna wasn’t going to be around much longer in Prompto’s timeline. 

The memories of Altissia flooded Ignis. Luna, lying on the ground with Noctis, one last healing hand giving him a second chance. Ravus, Ardyn, the ring. The heat on his skin and the smell of burning—it was not a moment he liked to replay. 

“I have to find a way to talk to Luna,” Ignis said, shaking the haunting images away. “She can help get word to Regis somehow. I know her and Noct communicated all throughout their lives.” 

“Yeah, even I got a letter from her once,” Prompto said. “It’s what gave me confidence to be friends with Noct. It’s a long story.”

Ignis knew the story well. Those endless nights of darkness, sitting in a hotel room in Lestallum and drinking whatever dregs of wine they could find, had lead to very open conversations between him, Prompto, and Gladio. 

“You can tell me one day,” Ignis said. “But for now, I’m going to try to speak with Luna.”

“But Iggy, how?”

Ignis got up and made his way through the dancing crowd toward the podium. He pushed through, ignoring the sweaty bodies, eyes forward. He was almost through when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder. 

“Where are you going?” Aranea said behind him. 

Ignis spun around. 

“Aranea, I was just looking for the washroom.”

“You looked like a man on a mission.”

“I drank a lot of water.”

“You were going after the Oracle, weren’t you?”

“I—”

“Look, I know you think she might be able to help your memory or something with her fancy Oracle powers, but good luck getting through all of those guards. You think they don’t have her surrounded like crazy around a bunch of drunk Nif cadets?”

She was right. He knew she was. 

“Plus she’s probably already been escorted back to perch in her castle,” Aranea continued. “But listen, they might have her hanging around at other events over the next couple of days. Maybe there’s a better moment. Just wait for the guards to get caught up in all of the action and try then. Okay?” 

“You’re right.” 

“I know. Now come have some fun.” 

Aranea dragged Ignis back into the crowd. Ignis wanted to resist, but the thought of dancing with Aranea, of holding her in his arms—

And there was Calvis again, along with Prompto. The sight of that curly-haired young man was fast becoming the stuff of nightmares for Ignis as he watched Aranea throw a hand on his shoulder as she danced. Prompto shimmied over to Ignis and tried to get him into a dancing mood, but the sight of Aranea and Calvis was too much. 

When Aranea wasn’t looking, Ignis melted away into the crowd—but not before he caught Calvis sneaking him a victorious grin. 

—

Ignis leaned against the hotel window, watching the odd person passing in the street below. Prompto lay on the bed, munching on a bag of chips. He was normally too health-conscious for that, but unexpected time travel had lent itself well to stress eating. 

“Ignis, let’s just go to bed,” Prompto said. “You didn’t wanna stay and party—which I totally get—but let’s at least get some rest.”

“I just want to make sure she gets back okay,” Ignis said, not taking his eyes away from the street.

“She’s an adult.”

“I know. I can still worry.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Ignis sighed in resignation, but just as he was about to give up, the silver hair and emerald dress caught his eye. There she was, walking languidly next to Calvis. 

“She’s back,” he said heavily. 

“With Calvis?” 

“Yes. Let’s get some rest.”

“Iggy, if you need to talk about it—”

“I’m fine, Prompto.” 

Ignis crawled into the bed they were sharing and flicked off the light. Prompto popped the remaining chip in his hand into his mouth, then placed the bag on the floor. 

“Night, Iggy.”

“Goodnight.”

—

She had wanted to find herself in Calvis’ room at the end of the night. It was something long fantasized about, being alone with him like this. So why did she feel so strange about it?

Aranea sat curled up with Calvis on the bed while they watched a TV show that she wasn’t following. Her feet hurt from dancing and she still felt a bit tipsy, but her liquid courage had mostly dissipated. 

“You okay, Ara?” Calvis asked. 

“Just tired.”

“I know what’ll wake you up.”

His mouth was quickly on her jaw and making its way to her lips. She closed her eyes and met him, allowing herself to melt into the kiss. 

Yes, this was good. 

Aranea pressed her body against his, imagining the strong form as his hands slid on her hips. 

This was exactly what she wanted. Of course it was. 

She pictured his face, trying really hard to concentrate on the details she once found so appealing, but the details were morphing, changing. The nose became straighter, the lips more sweetly defined, the jawline stronger. Freckles appeared. Light brown hair hung in straight pieces over his high forehead. 

Dammit, Ignis. 

Aranea pulled away. 

“What’s wrong now?” Calvis asked. 

“I don’t know.”

“Ara, do me a favor. Stop playing around with me, okay? If you like me, great. But if you’re not sure anymore—”

“I’m sure.”

Aranea leaned back in and kissed Calvis hard. 

Ignis sleeping across her room, Ignis’ hand in hers, Ignis smelling like freshly laundered clothes and coffee—

She pulled back again. 

“Dammit!” Aranea cried. “What is wrong with me!”

Calvis shifted away from her, removing his hands and slumping them on his lap. 

“Astrals, Aranea,” he said. “I can go up against him to win your affections if I have a fair shot. But this isn’t a fair shot, is it?” 

Aranea looked at Calvis, not entirely sure where he was going with this.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” he continued, “but maybe you need to figure it out. Cause clearly, I can’t take your mind off him.”

Was this really happening? She had been smitten by Calvis for so long. She played all her cards right so that he’d actually like her, not just want to hook up for a night. And here they were, in the perfect moment to seal the deal on all of their innocent dates and kisses—and she was getting up from the bed and leaving. 

And for what? For a man she knew next to nothing about, who was probably a spy? Who she may have to turn in one day, or worse? 

“I’m sorry Calvis,” Aranea said as she slipped out the door. He didn’t say anything in return—no harsh words, but also no reassurance that he would be waiting here if she changed her mind. 

She walked down the long, empty hallway to the stairs and was about to go up to her room, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back all alone. The hotel bar was probably a better call. 

—

Sleep was not kind. Images of Aranea in Calvis’ arms played in Ignis’ mind unrelentingly. She arched her back and placed her lips on various parts of him, over and over and over again. 

When that dream finally changed, Ignis was in darkness again, going through the motions of his recurring dreams. Falling, feeling trapped, breaking free, but then panic setting in. He was crawling on the ground; it was dirty, and bits of glass and metal sliced into his palms, but he couldn’t see a thing so he kept moving anyway. He was yelling something, but no one replied. He thought he heard movement and followed the sound, panic building. 

He touched a lifeless hand, and woke up. 

Ignis lay in bed, breathing heavily. Prompto snored peacefully beside him. His heart was still racing, and the last thing Ignis wanted was to go back to sleep. He threw off the covers and got dressed, then left the room. He needed rest, but if he was going to suffer either way, it might as well be over a night cap. 

The hotel bar was nearly empty, with only a handful of late night patrons, but one in particular caught his eye. The sight of Aranea sitting alone at the bar, still in her emerald green dress, drew a prolonged sigh of relief from Ignis. She had her back to him and was hunched over a drink, head resting in her hand. 

“All done for the night?” Ignis said. 

Aranea jumped. 

“Astrals, Ignis, you scared me.”

“I thought the fearless dragoon could always hear someone coming.” 

“This fearless dragoon is a bit out of sorts tonight.” 

“I’m sorry to hear. May I join you?”

Aranea gestured to the empty stool next to her. Ignis sat down and ordered a whiskey, straight. 

“You have a rough night too or something?” Aranea asked. 

“Bad dreams.” 

“Something on your mind?”

You. All the time. 

“No, just Prompto snoring too loud,” he joked. 

Aranea laughed. “You could stay in my room, if you’d like. We’re used to being roommates now, aren’t we?”

“But you don’t have a couch. Wherever will I sleep?” Ignis teased. 

Aranea took a sip of her drink, and Ignis thought he saw a hint of red on her cheeks. 

“What happened with Calvis?” he ventured. He was too curious, even if he knew he wouldn’t like all of the details. 

“Oh, that... I don’t know. I was with him, and we were making out...”

No, he definitely wasn’t liking the details. 

“... and I just couldn’t. It didn’t feel right.” 

“So you stopped, um, making out?”

“Yeah, we stopped. I left. It was awkward.”

Ignis let out a sigh of relief, a bit louder than he intended. 

“That’s good.”

“Good?” Aranea laughed. “I’m glad my awkward interactions give you such joy.” 

Ignis laughed too and took a sip of his drink. He looked at Aranea, and she looked back at him. As if on cue, the music in the bar changed to a soft acoustic song, one that Ignis remembered was a popular love song at the time. It was about how the singer lived for his love, and he was always looking for her when they were apart. 

How ridiculously perfect, Ignis thought. 

“Care to dance?” he asked. “We never did at the ball.” 

“No, we didn’t, did we?” Aranea offered her hand. “Let’s do this, Specs.” 

Ignis smiled at the familiar nickname and took her hand, leading her to an open area. He held her close, and Aranea sunk into him. Ignis worried for a moment that she was too drunk to think straight, but as he met her eyes, he saw that they were clear and focused. 

They barely even danced—more so stood in an embrace, swaying ever so gently side-to-side. It seemed so simple, so easy. 

Ignis held her tighter, a strange desperation growing within him—like if he let her go, she would be gone for good. Aranea’s arms tightened around him too, and she buried her face in his chest. 

They stayed like this for a long time, long enough to make the bartender raise a brow. Long enough for the music to fade and the lights to start dimming before they finally pulled apart and went up to their respective rooms. 

They parted wordlessly in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The truth about Ignis' dreams is revealed. 
> 
> I needed some fluff to happen between these two. It might just be extended hugging, but UGH, I NEEDED IT. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you thought! If you liked it, let me know. If not, I'd love your feedback. If you just want to scream HIGHSPECS!!, I am willing and ready XD


	8. Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea fights in the Academy Brawl under Ignis' watchful eye, while Prompto longs for Noctis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this is a long time coming! It's frustrating, cause I feel like the story is ramping up to some big exciting things, but I keep getting so damn busy. I really do love writing it though—I just need more hours XD 
> 
> This is a bit on the shorter side, but I think I'll keep doing that so I can try and get updates out more often. 
> 
> And I know I said that the truth of Ignis' dreams will be revealed this chapter, but it didn't quite evolve that way. I'm so sorry! Soon though, I promise. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The bus rattled as it shuttled the students and their families to the Academy Brawl arena. Ignis, Aranea, and Prompto sat huddled together on a seat meant for two. Aranea looked out the window at the passing scenery of Tenebrae, and Ignis teetered on the outside edge of the seat, annoyed that somehow Prompto had nabbed the middle. 

He figured it was Prompto’s way of trying to keep Ignis and his bleeding heart in check, though he suspected Prompto took some pleasure in his proximity to Aranea. It was no surprise; in Ignis’ timeline, Aranea and Prompto were thick as thieves. 

Ignis admired their friendship and valued the role that Prompto had come to play in their lives. He had been there for everything, from sharing the pain of losing Noctis to feeling the joy of gaining Lucie. He was the first to hold Lucie after Ignis and Aranea. He captured every stage of her life in countless photos, describing each one to Ignis in painstaking detail. 

Sometimes Ignis and Aranea even joked that they had adopted Prompto. Gladio lived on his own far better and had Iris, but Prompto was a bit lost. He needed a family, which Ignis had long known was a role filled by Noctis for the most part. He understood; Noctis had played the same role for him. 

So he didn’t complain if Prompto fell asleep in their bed on occasion, curled up in a ball next to Aranea as she read a magazine and stroked his blonde hair. He would let Prompto stay the night and cook him a hearty breakfast in the morning. 

It was great preparation for having a kid one day, Ignis had reasoned. But truthfully, he felt better too. 

—

Prompto was all too happy to carry Aranea’s weapons from the bus to the arena. He bemoaned the fact that Ignis wouldn’t let him take pictures should his camera end up back in his proper timeline, filled with confusing images, but he obeyed nonetheless. It was a chance to prove himself. 

Ignis had been a bit of an enigma to Prompto all his life. Noctis was his best friend, Gladio was his buddy, and Ignis… well, Prompto wasn’t sure what he was. Ignis took care of them, but sometimes Prompto wondered if he was someone that Ignis simply got stuck with. 

There was always a bit of unspoken distance between them, and Prompto wondered if he could ever close the gap. This older Ignis, however, seemed different. He was warmer, more open. Prompto wondered what they would go through together in the future to make the usually stoic and dry Ignis change like this. 

They found Aranea’s cubicle in the changing area of the arena and Prompto put her equipment down. Each student got their own small space to prepare, warm up, and get in the right headspace. While everyone else meditated or stretched, Aranea declared she was hungry and there was still an hour until her match. 

Ignis tried to persuade her to focus instead, but she refused to on an empty stomach. Prompto was inclined to agree. 

He follow behind Ignis and Aranea as they searched the adjacent food kiosks for something to Aranea’s liking. He watched the two interact and his heart ached. There was that natural thing, that unspoken something, that he always felt he had with Noctis. 

Prompto’s thoughts went back to Cape Caem. And the ice cube. And Noctis’s treasure trail. 

And that kiss. 

He still couldn’t believe he had kissed Noctis, but it didn’t end there. 

After they kissed and pulled apart, there was a pause that felt like it lasted for hours, a real stalemate. Who would make the next move? What the hell would it even be? 

Prompto was about ready to admit defeat and retreat. He moved back an inch, but Noctis’ hand stopped him. Before he knew it, Noctis’ lips were back on him. 

It was nothing more than a press, no tongue or skillful passion. Just an awkward mess. Prompto still longed for it now. 

Gladio had walked in at that point, and they jumped away from one another like two cats shocked by their own shadows. Gladio didn’t seem to have noticed anything, and Noctis and Prompto carried on like nothing had happened. 

Except everything had happened, and Prompto’s mind has been swimming since. Just before he got catapulted out of his timeline at Steyliff Grove, he was considering his options: Say something. Say nothing. Kiss him. Don’t kiss him and pretend he didn’t even remember. 

He was leaning toward the latter, but wanting the former. He was making hypothetical speeches in his head. He was getting himself pumped up to say something that night, or not, but maybe at least try—

And then Ignis dropped his glasses, Prompto reached for them, and woke up in Tenebrae 8 years in the past—18 years in this older Ignis’ past. 

Prompto watched Ignis and Aranea with interest. It was so obvious to him now, he thought. Ignis was, without a doubt, head over heels in love with her. And Aranea seemed confused, scared even, by her own feelings. But they were certainly there. 

Aranea was talking fast, gesticulating about something. Ignis looked down at her and smiled with such warmth. She caught his expression and grew tongue-tied, then smiled back at him. 

Astrals, the way they looked at one another. 

Prompto couldn’t help himself. He pulled out his camera and snapped a photo. 

—

“Are you sure you want to use the sword and not a polearm?” Ignis tried one last time. 

Aranea hummed and shook her head, her mouth filled with a baguette sandwich. 

“All right then,” Ignis sighed. He knew when she had her mind made up about something, there was no going around it. 

They made their way back to Aranea’s cubicle, and she shooed the two men away. 

“I need some alone time,” she said. “Get my head in the right place. Why don’t you go take your seats in the arena and I’ll see you out there?”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Prompto offered. 

“You guys are here. That’s already a lot. Everyone else has their entire family watching, and I wasn’t going to have any cheerleaders in the crowd. So… thank you, I guess.”

Ignis smiled at her, feeling a sense of pride at the role he played in helping her get here. But as him and Prompto made their way to their seats, his stomach knotted up at the thought of Aranea fighting in the arena. 

What if she loses? 

Astrals, what if she gets hurt? 

Aranea had described the event in detail, and while it was true that no one died (usually), there have been some pretty serious injuries in the past. Lost limbs, damaged eyes, paralysis… This was serious business and a way of vetting the strongest. 

“You okay, Iggy? You’re looking a little pale,” Prompto said. 

“I just hope she’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“And, for both our sakes, that she wins. You don’t want to know the wrath of Aranea any sooner than you have to.”

“Not gonna lie, I find the older version of her quite scary.”

“She can be fiery.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Prompto took a deep breath in. “Hey, Ignis. Can I ask you something?”

“I suppose you will either way.”

“Are Noct and Luna happy?”

Ignis didn’t let out his breath. Gods, there was so much he couldn’t tell Prompto, as much as he longed to. 

“Prompto, I already told you that I can’t—”

“But all I want to know is if they’re happy. You don’t have to give anything else away.”

Ignis sighed, clasped his hands. 

“They have found happiness in their own way.”

“That sounds ominous.”

Ignis didn’t respond. 

“Am I happy?” Prompto added. 

No, Ignis thought. The Prompto of his timeline was not happy. He held it together for ten long years, only to have Noctis come and go in a matter of days. It sent Prompto spiraling, and he hadn’t quite come back from it yet. He was trying, certainly, but something deeper was lost. Something permanent. 

“You always find a way to keep seeing the light,” Ignis said. 

“Great. That sounds promising.” 

Prompto squirmed and shifted in his seat. 

“If you need to say something more, go ahead,” Ignis said, gentler now. “I won’t judge.”

Prompto’s knee bobbed up and down rapidly. 

“It’s just that… Noct and I. We’re really close friends, right?”

“The best of friends.”

“I just have this idea of the two of us, I don’t know… growing old together, I guess? That sounds dumb.”

Ignis thought about Aranea, about Lucie, about all of the guys. 

“No, it’s not dumb at all.”

“And I guess I just want some reassurance, y’know? That I haven’t messed things up in some way and Noct and I are still close.”

Ignis studied Prompto, who had a pained expression, and felt a surge of sympathy for the boy. 

“Prompto, you most certainly don’t mess anything up. You should be proud of the man you will become. I know I am.” 

Prompto’s mouth spread into the widest grin. Such compliments from Ignis were still hard for him to come by, but much desired. 

He wanted to say more. He wanted to confess what had happened between him and Noctis. Ignis, of all people, would have good advice for him. He wanted to ask if Ignis knew about it in the future, if they would all laugh about that stupid kiss one day. 

Except Prompto didn’t want to laugh about it, and for a moment he pictured a future version of himself with Noctis, standing arm in arm and—

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending the annual Academy Brawl!” a woman’s voice boomed over the arena’s speakers. “The first round is about to begin.”

Ignis’ hands curled into fists. 

Please let her win. 

—

The walls of the cubicle were closing in. Aranea breathed in and out, but it felt too shallow. When she saw Calvis walking by, she called out to him. He came to her somewhat tentatively, but still gave her a few encouraging words and brought her a glass of water. 

“You got this, Ara,” he said, handing her the sword. “You’re one of the most gifted people out there.” 

Aranea eyed the weapon up and down, then her eyes went to the lance in the corner. Ignis had insisted on bringing it, just in case. 

She breathed in and out, then grabbed the sword. 

—

A broken nose. A bad concussion. Some lost fingers. Plenty of cuts, scrapes, bruises, and blood. Ignis and Prompto watched as student after student succumbed to a stronger opponent. Of course, the Nifs didn’t like to keep it too predictable either—at the end of the day, they would hand out a wild card to someone who lost for a chance at redemption in the next round. 

Ignis grabbed Prompto’s arm as Aranea Highwind was announced to the ring. He watched her enter seemingly confidently, but he knew better. She was a little bit too stiff, her shoulders held too high. She was nervous—and she was carrying her sword. 

Her randomly-chosen opponent was a girl of unexpected proportions, muscles twitching over a large and incredibly fit frame. Aranea would no doubt be faster, Ignis thought, but she was disadvantaged at strength. 

Aranea took her stance across from the massive girl—Dietra, they announced—and waited like a cat ready to pounce. Ignis wasn’t sure if it was onto the opponent, or away from her. 

A bell rang. Dietra lunged. Aranea jumped high, but she was a fraction too late. Her foot was caught, and she flipped through the air, landing on her side. The crowd roared, and Ignis gripped Prompto’s arm harder. 

Aranea wasted no time getting back on her feet, now taking the offensive. Her sword clashed with Dietra’s broadsword, but she held her own. She moved swiftly, dodging and getting the odd good hit in, though they were mostly at a stalemate. 

As swift as she was, Ignis could tell that Aranea was disadvantaged with the sword. He knew she was much faster than this, and the sword was depleting her stamina. She was getting red-faced and sweaty. 

Dietra finally got a powerful hit in and pushed Aranea hard, sending her careening into the dirt. She got up, spitting out a mouthful of sand, and went back at Dietra, but Ignis could tell she was slowing down. 

Finally, Aranea landed a good strike to the backs of Dietra’s knees, sending the larger girl to the ground. Aranea looked a little more confident now and, as Dietra stood up, she was ready. She jumped, sword raised and ready to strike down and finish off her opponent once and for all. 

That was when Dietra swung her sword low then came back up at a deadly angle, threatening to split Aranea in half. Ignis stood in his seat instinctively, ready to spring into action and deflect the enemy. 

That is, after all, what he would do in his timeline. Hunting daemons, the two of them worked like a beautiful dance, their battles almost sensuous in the way they fed off one another. Even blind, Ignis always knew exactly where she was and what he needed to do. 

But here, he was too far away in his seat—and he wasn’t meant to interfere. So he stood, frozen, as he watched the sword threaten to slice Aranea. 

Of course, Aranea’s instincts clicked in and she diverted in the air, missing the lethal blade by mere centimeters. It got her off-balance though, and she went rolling onto the ground again. 

She was open and disoriented just long enough for Dietra to get in a hard kick to the ribs. This was followed by another to the shin. Dietra then grabbed Aranea by the hair and lifted her up off the ground. 

Aranea still had her sword in a white-knuckled grip. She swung it backward, then sent it forward with all of her strength and momentum—but Dietra met it with her own weapon. 

The blades clashed hard. Aranea’s grip, now tired and weakened, gave way just a little, enough to send her sword flying out of her hand. Dietra’s blade swung back, ready for the finishing blow. 

But dammit, Aranea wasn’t about to go down that easy. 

She drew her legs up, painfully held up only by her hair, and met the face of Dietra’s blade with her feet, pushing it back with all the force she could muster. The broadsword flew free and Dietra fell backwards from the impact, still holding onto Aranea hair. 

They landed on the ground, Dietra on her back and Aranea on top of her. She headlocked Dietra quickly, and for a moment it looked like she may have the upper hand. 

But Ignis’ heart was sinking before anyone else could realize what was about to happen. 

Though still in a headlock, Dietra flipped Aranea underneath her and pinned her by the throat with a gigantic hand that had finally let go of her hair. 

Aranea was squirming. She was turning purple. So was Dietra, firmly in Aranea’s desperate arms. 

_Tap out_ , Ignis thought. _Please tap out._

It was so close, but Dietra was bigger. 

_Tap. Out._

Aranea was wheezing now, barely breathing. 

_TAP OUT NOW!_

Aranea’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. 

And then, a sudden flash as Ignis blinked. He was in darkness again, and he was holding something—someone. 

Just as quickly, his vision returned as he watched Aranea finally loosen the headlock and tap out. 

Dietra let go and raised her arms in victory as Aranea curled up on the ground, coughing wildly. Medics rushed over and lifted her away. Ignis ran from his seat, Prompto close behind. 

_Please let her be okay._

—

Ignis was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. She didn’t mind, not at all. His face was comforting to her, though his eyes looked worried. 

Then she remembered that she lost at the Brawl. She was back in her cubicle, lying on a cot. 

“I lost,” she managed, her throat raw. 

“You did,” Ignis said gently. 

“I fucking lost.”

“You fought brilliantly. You refused to give up.”

“Clearly, that’s not true.”

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t be worth dying over,” Ignis said, squeezing her hand. 

She realized he had been holding it this entire time. 

“It’s so embarrassing, I might as well have died.” 

“Believe me, there is far worse,” Ignis said, vaguely recalling the many horrors that plagued them over the years. “Get some rest.”

Aranea’s eyes welled up. Her breath grew shaky and her hands gripped Ignis’ harder. 

She began to cry. All of those months—no, years—of preparation, down the drain. She was a failure. 

Ignis scooped her up in his arms, and she buried her face in his chest. He ran his hand through her hair and held her. It was all she needed in that moment. How did he know exactly how to comfort her ?

They were interrupted as an excited Prompto rushed into the room. 

“Aranea!” he yelled. 

“What?” she said, reluctantly breaking away from Ignis. 

“You got it!”

“I got what?”

“They just announced it—you’re the wild card! You’re in for another round tomorrow.”

Aranea blinked. She filled with excitement—and then dread. 

She was broken, battered, bruised. Everything hurt. 

How in the world would she fight again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The truth about Ignis' dreams is revealed... for real this time! 
> 
> Are you still reading this story? Well, first of all, a HUGE thank you! Second, please let me know what you think. Feedback (good or bad) is what keeps writers going. I really do appreciate each and every one!


	9. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis, Aranea, and Prompto recover from the first round of the Academy Brawl, and meet an unexpected blast from the past (or, um, future) at a karaoke bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU to everyone who came out and reviewed the last chapter, including some first time reviewers! I cannot express how grateful I am for your kind words <3 It was SO motivating, and I feel a renewed sense of energy to keep writing this story. I really do love working on it, but it definitely helps to hear if you like it too. 
> 
> And I felt so much more motivated that I actually wrote a too-long chapter, so I've decided to split it in two. Here's the first part, and that means the second won't be too far behind!

“Absolutely not.”

“Aranea, it makes sense.”

“Ignis, the lance is not my weapon. I use the sword.”

“You won’t last half the round.”

“I’ll last even less time with the lance.”

Ignis paced Aranea’s hotel room, where she was recovering. The medics had done everything they could to heal her, but Aranea was still tender—and there was certainly no helping her battered confidence. 

“The lance is optimal for someone of your build, Aranea, not to mention your natural talent.”

“Stop talking like you know me best.” 

Ignis sighed.

“I’m only trying to help.” 

He knew he was being pushy because he was panicking. He couldn’t imagine watching Aranea getting hurt again. The Aranea from his timeline was tough as nails and not likely to come back with broken ribs—or at least, she was very good at pretending she didn’t, since Ignis wouldn’t have been able to see the bruises anyway. 

“I just want to take it easy tonight, okay?” Aranea said. “You and sunshine boy over there would be far more useful if you were distracting me.”

“Who, me?” Prompto said, perking up from the corner where he had been awkwardly avoiding the conversation. 

“Yeah, you. What do you think I should do?”

“About the lance?” Prompto asked cautiously. 

“No, to distract myself.” 

“Hmm… maybe try singing?”

“What?”

“You know, like karaoke?”

“Prompto, this isn’t a joke,” Ignis said. 

“I’m not joking! They say that music is good for relaxation. And I may have seen a sign that there’s karaoke in the bar down the street.” 

“We are not going to sing karaoke—”

“Sounds great,” Aranea said. “I’ll get my shoes on.”

Ignis watched Aranea painfully stand up. 

“Aranea, you can’t be serious.”

“Yes, Ignis. I am serious. If I’m gonna die of humiliation tomorrow, I might as well get used to it tonight. Let’s go.” 

Ignis shot Prompto a look that made the younger man wish he could sink further into his chair. Then Ignis put his coat on and threw Prompto’s shoes over to him. 

If they’re going down in humiliation, they’re going down together. 

—

Ignis remembered the first time he heard her singing. He had returned from a particularly bad mission with Cor, and every ounce of energy was drained from him. He wanted to see Aranea, though. Things were still new, and it was the perfect release. He got to her place, planning on initiating their usual fiery and secretive love-making, but instead he collapsed in bed. 

She didn’t seem to mind though. She curled her arms around him—a very gentle gesture he was surprised by—and started humming. 

It wasn’t an astounding voice or even all that in tune, but it was the most beautiful thing to Ignis in that moment. She was comfort and warmth and maybe even something more than just a friend with benefits. Maybe. 

He drifted off to the sound of her soft singing. 

—

The karaoke bar wasn’t much like the rest of Tenebrae; it stank of stale beer and nervous people, and was uncharacteristically rowdy. 

The trio found a booth in the back and flipped through the karaoke books. Ignis picked out some nostalgic favorites, but some of his go-to songs were nowhere to be found. Of course not; they hadn’t been written yet. Prompto, on the other hand, didn’t have nearly as much trouble picking his tracks thanks to a surprising taste for the classics. 

Aranea ordered a round of drinks—just one for her, she swore—and handed their list of songs to the host. 

One atrocious singer finished, and the host roused what enthusiasm he had to announce the next guest. 

“We’ve got a great one for you guys,” he said squinting at his list. “One of our regulars. Please welcome the mysterious Mr. Nox to the stage, singing the hit ‘You’re All I’ll Ever Need!’”

The crowd cheered as a tall man took the stage. He was wearing a hat, silvery hair largely covering his face, and was dressed in casual attire. 

That didn’t stop Ignis from immediately recognizing Ravus. 

“What in the…” he breathed. 

“Don’t like that song either?” Aranea quipped. “It’s so cheesy. Gross.” 

“It’s just a rather… unexpected choice.” 

He must be here incognito, Ignis thought, considering Ravus’ attire. Could he be helpful in getting to Luna though? And there it was again, just like that: hope. 

Ravus started his song. He had a gentle voice, hushing the crowd with its unexpected sincerity. Ignis was not surprised; though his history with Ravus had been tense, there was always something underneath giving away the fact that Ravus was a victim of circumstance. They were very alike, the two of them, both incredibly devoted to the people they loved. 

The song finished, and the crowd gave a heartfelt applause. 

“Wow. He was actually really good,” Aranea sighed. “Still hate that song though.” 

Ignis raised a brow at Aranea’s reaction. He never knew of any history between Aranea and Ravus, though he had his suspicions. The older Aranea had known Ravus well enough, but she rarely talked about him. Ignis got the sense that she felt sorry for his fate, and was even a bit pained by it. He didn’t push her though. It didn’t matter. Like so many things in their lives, the past was best left where it belonged. 

Though Ignis wasn’t exactly doing a stellar job at that, given his time-defying circumstances. 

Aranea and Prompto were called up to sing next, a lively duet that Ignis realized he’d caught the older Aranea and Prompto drunkenly crooning and dancing to in his own timeline. Funny, how ingrained certain habits were. 

Ravus had taken a seat at a table not too far from Ignis, apparently unaccompanied. How strange, to think of Ravus enjoying a casual night of karaoke like this. Everyone needed a break every now and then, Ignis mused. But he was all business as he stood up and walked over to Ravus, sitting down in an empty chair at his table. 

“That was a great song,” Ignis said. 

“Thanks,” Ravus replied, not looking up. He looked uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t used to being approached like this. 

“Do you have a moment?” Ignis continued. 

“I prefer to watch the singers.” 

“It will only take a minute.”

“Fine…” Ravus sighed, gesturing to Aranea and Prompto. “I suppose these two are butchering that song anyway. Go ahead.”

Ignis considered his options: be honest, lie, or somewhere in between. 

“I need to speak with Luna,” he said. 

Ravus immediately froze, with one eye darting at Ignis, filled with rage and fear. 

“I won’t blow your cover,” Ignis added quickly. “Please. It’s a very important matter.”

“Who are you?” Ravus snarled. 

“I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”

“Try me.” 

“It’s best I don’t say too much, but I’m from the future. I was catapulted back in time somehow. It sounds crazy, I know.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“If only it were so, but I’m afraid it’s the truth. Please, I need to get to Luna. She might be able to get in touch with King Regis, who would help me—”

Ravus snickered. He may have been much younger than when Ignis had known him—about 20 years old—but he already had his biting nature. 

“You fool. King Regis is nothing but a traitor.” 

“Because he chose to save his son instead of you and your family?”

Ravus studied Ignis more closely now. Ignis, of course, knew the full story of the siege of Tenebrae—including the parts often omitted from the history books. 

“Because he chose to abandon those who needed him most. What kind of king is that?” 

“One that knows where his allegiances lie: with his country.” 

“Do not school me, boy.” Ravus held Ignis’ eye for a moment, then focused back on Aranea and Prompto. “They may be awful singers, but the girl is pleasing in other ways.” 

Ignis made a funny coughing sound. 

“Did I hit a nerve?” Ravus said. 

“I’m only here to talk about seeing Luna.”

“And I am only here to enjoy a moment of peace. Now, leave me.”

“But—”

“I said, leave.” 

Ravus stared Ignis down—a warning. He slowly got up as Aranea and Prompto appeared. He hadn’t even noticed that they had finished. 

“We killed it!” Prompto declared. 

“Yeah, literally,” Aranea laughed. “That poor song.”

“These poor patrons,” Ravus added. 

“Oh, hi,” Aranea said. “You were really good up there earlier.”

Was she blushing? 

“And you… tried,” Ravus said. 

Was this his way of flirting? If it was, Ignis was relieved to see it wasn’t working as Aranea turned away and muttered “asshole” under her breath. Ignis and Prompto followed her back to their booth, with Ignis casting one last imploring look at Ravus. He was met only with a cold turn of the head. 

“Why were you talking to that guy?” Aranea asked as they sat back in their booth. 

“I just wanted to let him know I enjoyed his performance,” Ignis said.

“He looked familiar,” Prompto added. 

Ignis gave him a kick under the table. Prompto would have had a run-in with Ravus by now, but it wasn’t enough to help him recognize the younger version apparently. 

“He probably reminds me of a celebrity or something,” Prompto added quickly, though he wasn’t sure what he was covering up. 

Someone finished their song, and the host took the stage again. 

“Thank you for that, uh, powerful rendition. Next up is… Ignis! He’ll be singing ‘Your Eyes.’ Ignis, come on up.”

Ignis was not in the mood anymore. He tried to protest, but Aranea was having none of it. 

“Stage fright?” she asked, taking his hand and dragging him out of the booth. 

“Just a lot on my mind.”

She pulled him across the room. 

“Welcome to the club. I’ll go up with you then. I love this song.”

She pulled him on stage, handing him a mic. 

Ignis knew she loved this song; it was why he chose it. He used to sing it to his own Aranea all the time, softly into her hair on the pillow. 

The opening notes drifted up softly and he opened his mouth, the crowd falling away. He sang the familiar words, and it felt like he was back in the quiet of Aranea’s room, slowly and cautiously navigating through the confusing mess of emotions they had invited in. 

As the younger Aranea watched him, her features softened and she joined Ignis for the chorus. She always joined him for the chorus in his timeline too—just as a joke, she had always insisted, but the slight quiver in her voice indicated otherwise. 

_When night goes too dark_  
_I will remember your eyes_  
_When our lives fall apart_  
_I will remember your eyes_  
_When the world has gone black_  
_I will remember your eyes_  
_Your eyes, your eyes, your bright green eyes_  


Ignis sang to this younger Aranea, but he was singing to the older one too. He was singing to all of the Araneas he had ever known. 

The one that accompanied them at Steyliff Grove and he made awkward conversation with. 

The one that helped him learn to adapt to his blindness and fight again. 

The one he held desperately in his arms the first time they came skin to skin, more roughly the third time, and with all the tenderness he could muster so many other nights. 

The one that suggested he move in with her in the most roundabout way possible. 

The one that he kissed reassuringly when she told him she was, rather unexpectedly, pregnant. 

The one that dutifully held their daughter to her breast night after sleepless night. 

The one that was standing before him now, still young and wayward but also fierce. 

The one that…

The one that—what?

Everything went black for a moment. 

_The one that Ignis held in his arms as he screamed—_

His vision returned just as quickly, and Aranea looked at him with concern. He had stopped singing. He picked the chorus back up and finished the song in tandem with Aranea, not able to place that last memory, if it even was one. A nightmare, more like it. 

The crowd clapped and they made their way back to their booth. Prompto grinned at them stupidly. 

“What?” Aranea said, more defensively than she meant to. 

“That was adorable,” Prompto sighed. 

“It was just a song,” Aranea shrugged. 

“Thank you for joining me,” Ignis said. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“No big deal,” Aranea replied. “Like I said, it’s just a song.” 

—

Ignis crawled into bed next to Prompto. They had taken Aranea back to her room first. She had asked if they wanted to hang out, but Ignis insisted she get some rest. Tomorrow was a big day for her. 

Prompto shifted around in bed. He had that confused look on his face that Ignis recognized as an attempt to work a problem out, so he waited for Prompto to get the nerve to say what he wanted to. 

“You know, Iggy,” he began, “I really see it now—the two of you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s just so natural. Like when you guys were singing, you did it so effortlessly. I’ve never had that before.” 

“You have that with Noct.” 

Ignis meant it as a joke, but seeing something unexpected flash across Prompto’s face made him pause. 

“Prompto? Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, it’s just… how do you know what the line is?”

“Line?”

“How did you know that Aranea was more than just a friend?”

“I suppose it was always there. We just didn’t want to admit it for a very long time.” 

“Why not?”

“We were scared—scared that the other might not be thinking the same thing, or that it would ruin what we already had.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

Prompto thought about Noctis, and everything he had come to mean to him. He was his best friend, yes, but he was also his family. Prompto felt invincible with Noctis. He felt whole. Was that romantic though? What exactly did their kiss mean? Or was it just a dumb mistake because they were young and horny and anyone would do? 

Except Noctis wasn’t anyone. 

“We should get some rest,” Ignis said, flicking off the lights. “But if you want to talk more, I’m here to listen.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Prompto said, wiggling into a more comfortable position. “I hope Aranea does well tomorrow.”

“Me too. She never told me about this happening. I have no idea what is about to come.”

“Well, you know she won’t die at least.” 

“No, I suppose not. But for some reason, it still scares me.”

Ignis wanted to pinpoint what it was, but the complete picture wouldn’t come together. 

“Something feels off,” he whispered, and then drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Round Two of the Academy Brawl does not go as anyone planned, and Ignis finally sees the full picture... 
> 
> This karaoke scene is one of those weird moments that I didn't plan on writing, but kind of happened anyway and I'm glad it did. I think the story needed a moment of reprieve after the last chapter, and before going into the next. 
> 
> And good news! The next one is already written, it just needs an edit. So I promise it won't be too long! 
> 
> Thank you once again for the reviews everyone. They truly mean so much to me <3 
> 
> So what did you think of this little moment of fun?


	10. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea steps back into the arena to prove herself, but things take an unexpected turn. Ignis remembers something devastating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... here it is. The big reveal. I'M SORRY.

Aranea breathed deeply, sword clutched in her hands. Everything was still hurting from the previous fight, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it the best she could. 

Ignis was kneeling in front of her, saying words that weren’t quite reaching her. 

“Aranea?” he said. 

She blinked and shook her head. 

“Yeah?” 

“I was saying, I know you can do this.”

“Even with the sword?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t seem to think so yesterday.”

“I do now,” Ignis said, wrapping his hands around hers on the weapon’s handle. “You’re one of the strongest fighters out there.” 

“I’m trying to be. You guys should go to your seats. I just need a moment.”

Ignis nodded and got up, gesturing for Prompto to follow. 

“I can do this,” Aranea whispered under her breath as they walked out. “I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…”

The sword weighed heavy in her hand. The lance taunted her from the corner. 

—

Ignis and Prompto took their seats, picking up pamphlets that had been left on the benches. It was a restaurant, advertising “Brawl-istic Special Prices,” valid for that day only. Ignis absentmindedly studied the date on the pamphlet: March 29, 728. 

He frowned at the date, but he couldn’t place why. Probably an event from his past, something that had seemed significant to his 14-year-old self but was meaningless now. He placed the pamphlet on his lap and turned his attention to a long-winded fight that was finally about to end with a rather brutal bloodbath. 

Prompto gasped as the final blow was delivered and a barely-standing winner declared. The medics removed the fallen contestant, while the winner all but crawled out of the arena. 

It was Aranea’s round next. Her opponent, Derrick, was announced first. He was no bigger than her challenger from the previous day, but he looked strong and aggressively ready to go. He had a light sword as his weapon. 

Then, Aranea was called. Ignis moved to the edge of his seat, craning his neck to watch her emerge from the opposite end of the arena. 

She took a few steps out into the sunlight, and she was certainly feigning confidence, but Ignis could tell that she was unsure, worried. She had her sword, as expected. She made her way about a third of the way into the arena—then stopped. She looked at Derrick, at the crowd, at the swarm of Niflheim soldiers stationed throughout. She found Ignis’ gaze. 

She was working through something, Ignis could tell. He nodded his assurance; he knew her instincts would be right. 

Aranea motioned to the referee to wait and ran back inside. The crowd muttered, wondering if she was having cold feet. 

“Iggy, what is she doing?” Prompto asked. 

“I think I know.” 

The minutes passed, and an impatient Derrick started arguing with the referee, who insisted on waiting a little longer. The crowd was getting restless too. Ignis scrunched the pamphlet on his lap into a ball, smooth it back out, and then scrunched it again. The referee looked like he was ready to announce a forfeit. 

And then Aranea emerged again. 

She walked out confidently—genuine this time—taking each determined step into the arena and silencing the crowd with her presence. She held her head high. Her free hand was in a fist. And in the other was the lance. 

Ignis got to his feet. 

“Is that…?” Prompto breathed, standing up as well. 

Ignis smiled and, for the first time, felt truly assured that Aranea could win this. 

Aranea met Derrick in the middle of the arena and planted her lance into the ground as she bowed her head in respect. The referee gave her lance a quizzical look, then raised his hand and announced the start of the fight. 

Aranea and Derrick walked around in circles, face-to-face, as they engaged in a tense standoff. Finally, Derrick made the first move and Aranea, undaunted by the lightness of the pole, easily evaded him. She kept this up for a while, waiting until Derrick got too comfortable in her evasion pattern—and then planted her lance as she cartwheeled into the air and delivered a swift kick to the chest. 

Derrick stumbled back with a grunt and Aranea followed up with a lunge, her spear held high. Derrick deflected with his sword, but it only gave him a bit of leeway before Aranea was back on him. 

Ignis couldn’t believe it; he was actually enjoying watching Aranea fight, not fearing for her safety. She moved so elegantly, the way he had seen the older Aranea do before he lost his sight. His heart pounded, his hands were in fists, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“Go Aranea! You got this, girl!” Prompto yelled. “This is your day!” 

Her day, indeed. 

Her day, but also… 

Wait. 

March 29, 728. For some reason, it lingered in the back of Ignis’ mind, nagging at him. 

He watched Aranea lunging and attacking. She was on the offensive and it was working. She was fierce, unrelenting, tactical... 

Tactical. 

A memory came to him: Younger Ignis, no more than 14, already drinking Ebony and reading the morning paper in an attempt to keep abreast of politics. The headline read, “Lucian Army Delivers Tactical Blow to Niflheim Empire.” 

How does one hinder the Empire? By taking out their top talent. Their soldiers, their leaders, their future forces, preferably all in one place—

March 29, 728. The date the Lucians plotted the greatest stealth attack in the war in a bid to recover Luna and deal a heavy blow to the Empire’s army. One of those two things would come to pass. 

“Prompto,” Ignis said, his voice tense. “We have to get out of here.”

“What?” 

“It’s March 29, 728. We need to grab Aranea and get out of here, _now_.” 

“Ignis, what are you talking about?” 

Ignis’ eyes darted around, looking for clues, for any suspicious figures. 

“The Lucians. They’re coming.”

“The Lucians? I don’t understand, how could the Lucians be—”

A loud explosion went off in a nearby building towering next to the arena and the crowd let out a collective scream as they took cover. Aranea and Derrick stopped in their tracks as they stared at the debris falling from the building. 

And then an arrow pierced right into Derrick’s skull. 

He toppled over in front of Aranea, and Ignis screamed. 

“RUN!!!!” 

Instinct took over fast as Aranea made a beeline for the arena’s exit, arrows flying after her. She careened and dodged, one arrow getting a bit too close and leaving a cut on her arm. Then a kukris warped near her, followed by a Glaive. She just barely made it inside, slamming the door in his face. 

Ignis grabbed Prompto and pushed through the crowd as everyone panicked and ran for the exits. He was running the opposite way though; he had to get to Aranea. 

“Ignis, what is happening?” Prompto screamed. 

“The Glaive stealth attack in 728! The Lucians infiltrated Tenebrae in an attempt to rescue Lunafreya, resulting in a significant loss of life for the—”

“—the Niflheim army, yeah I remember that! Holy shit, Ignis, is that now?!”

Lucian soldiers and Glaives were entering the arena in full force now, fighting the Niflheim infantry. A Glaive warped close to Ignis and Prompto, and they ducked as the Glaive took a defensive swing at them before warping again to a nearby Niflheim soldier. At least they weren’t trying to attack the spectators, Ignis thought. 

But Aranea was no spectator. She was an elite soldier in training—a prime target. 

Ignis and Prompto forced their way inside to the cubicle where Aranea had been getting ready, hoping to find her there. As they entered, they barely jumped out of the way of a stumbling Niflheim cadette as he fell forward, a dagger in his back. A Glaive warped to the dagger, pulled it out, then stabbed it in again. He warped away before he could notice Ignis and Prompto hiding in an alcove. 

“She’s not here. Keep looking!” Ignis said to Prompto. 

The cubicles were chaos. As they made their way around the fighting, Ignis’ mind raced. What if the reason Aranea never told him about this in his timeline was because she wasn’t here? What if she had failed her test and never made it to the Brawl? And because Ignis had shown up, he helped her and possibly led her right into a death trap. 

What had he done? 

Ignis saw a pair of daggers in the hands of a fallen Glaive, and he quickly picked them up. Then the lights went out, plunging the space into darkness, save for the eerie blue light of Glaives warping around. At least Ignis was in his element. 

“Aranea!!” Ignis yelled. 

“Look!” Prompto said, grabbing Ignis and pointing him in the direction of a flight of stairs at the other end of the room. 

Small emergency lights lined the ascending stairs, and Ignis could just barely make out Aranea’s familiar form running up. A Glaive warped near her and followed. 

Ignis made a beeline for the stairs, Prompto close behind as they pushed through the bloodbath, taking the odd scrape and bruise. They bolted up a seemingly endless flight of stairs until they came out to a large rooftop patio. 

Aranea was on her knees near the edge of the rooftop as the Glaive warped to her. She threw him off with her lance, but he warped to safety before he could go over the edge. Aranea looked like she was barely hanging on, but she got to her feet anyway. 

Ignis ran toward her, screaming her name as his borrowed daggers burst into flames. He knew the Glaive would be warping back; he could anticipate their patterns after years of practice with Noctis. He leapt at the precise moment to meet the Glaive in the air and sliced his daggers through his hands, sending the magical kukris flying. 

The Glaive went tumbling toward the edge of the roof, but he stopped just short of falling off. Ignis approached; he had the upper hand, he could end him here and now. 

“Please. Don’t make me,” he whispered to the Glaive. 

“Ignis, finished him!” Aranea yelled, her voice hoarse. 

“Forfeit,” Ignis hissed desperately. 

“Not until the Lady Lunafreya is released from your treacherous hands,” the Glaive spat. “I would rather die than give in to the Nifs. My allegiance lies with Lucis!” 

And where did Ignis’ allegiance lie? With Lucis? Or with Lucie, named after his beloved homeland. 

“As does mine,” Ignis said. “Forgive me.”

“What are you waiting for?!” Aranea screamed. 

His daggers lit up in flames again, just as a thundering sound reverberated through the building. And then the world started tilting. 

Ignis’ legs became unsteady. The Glaive rolled toward the edge and screamed as he went right off the rooftop as Ignis scuttled backwards. The roof was at an increasingly treacherous angle.

Ignis threw himself down and pinned the daggers into the concrete, but it cracked as it separated from the rest of the building. 

“Iggy!” Prompto screamed, jumping forward and reaching for his hand. 

Ignis tried desperately to grab Prompto’s and then Aranea’s, who managed to grab his shirtsleeve—and then went falling down with him. 

It was a fraction of a second, but it seemed to take forever. 

Rubble flying. 

A sensation of falling. 

Aranea in the air. 

Everything going black. 

—

Ignis was falling, spinning again, just like in his dreams. 

He hit the ground. He was strapped in, trapped. His shades had fallen off somewhere. He broke free, then crawled on the ground, as he always did. The glass and metal sliced into his palms. Everything hurt. He was yelling. 

He was yelling her name. But there was only silence. 

He heard movement, maybe, and he moved toward it, feeling his way around the debris as best as he could. 

And there it was, the lifeless hand he always found in his dreams. Usually he would wake up at this point. 

But no. He felt the hand, moving up the smooth arm and finding it was sticky with blood. He reached over the abdomen, the familiar curves. He touched her face, finding more blood. 

“Aranea?” 

He put his cheek to her mouth. Nothing. 

“Aranea??” 

He felt her neck, searched for a pulse. He checked her wrist too. 

“Aranea. Please!” 

He placed her on the ground and pounded her chest, then blew into her mouth. He was probably being too rough, but he was getting desperate. 

“Aranea, please! Aranea!” 

He blew into her mouth again. He tried everything he could. He used all the potions he had on him. Nothing. 

He gathered her in his arms again, rocking her. How much time had passed since she stopped breathing? 

Too long. Too long. Too damn long. 

He choked on his spit, metallic with the taste of blood. He coughed, he started crying. His chest heaved violently as he realized what was happening. 

Just moments ago, they had been driving in the sun—finally, the sun, a distant memory for so long. They were transporting materials to Lestallum that they had found in the ruins at Steyliff Grove. A favor, really, but it kept them busy. It gave Ignis something else to focus on than Noctis—lying cold and so alarmingly still in the throne room. They had been crossing a bridge. And then they were falling. 

It happened too fast. She must have tried to jump, that’s why she ended up so far from the car that Ignis had remained strapped into. She never did like wearing a seat belt. 

For once, she was taken a fraction by surprise and timed it wrong, her guard let down in this new-found peace. 

How could this warrior of a woman survive 10 years of darkness and hunting daemons, only to be bested like this? 

Perhaps that’s why. She was always ready for daemons. Not for tenuous bridges. 

Ignis screamed for help. He held Aranea tight and kissed her. He cried into her bloodied hair. The roads were silent. No help was coming. 

And that’s when he remembered their cargo. 

Crystal shards, found at Steyliff Grove. 

They had been careful not to touch them directly, thanks to a few reports of strange occurrences from hunters. They had wrapped them tightly and packed them in the trunk. 

Ignis kissed Aranea as he gingerly lowered her limp body to the ground. He stumbled back to the car, more disoriented than usual. His hands felt for the trunk latch and popped it open. 

Yes, the shards were still there, wrapped in cloth. He had no idea what he was doing, except he knew one thing for certain: the crystal had powers he couldn’t even begin to understand. And he was desperate for anything. 

Anything, anything to bring Aranea back. 

Please, he repeated. Please, please please. 

He unwrapped the shards. He reached in. A jolt rocked his body as his fingers touched the cold surface. 

_Please. Anything._

—

Ignis breathed in sharply as his eyes darted open. Aranea’s concerned face hovered above him, covered in dirt but no blood. She looked so young. She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear her. 

As his eyes adjusted, Ignis realized he was lying in the rubble of what was left of the rooftop. His ears were ringing, but they slowly cleared. 

“Ignis, thank the Astrals!” Aranea said, her voice becoming audible. “I thought you weren’t gonna wake up—”

Ignis’ eyes went wide with realization. 

It wasn’t a dream. It was how he ended up here. 

And Aranea, she was…

Ignis grabbed the younger Aranea and pulled her in, holding her like she was about to slip away. She wrapped her arms around him too, and he buried his face in her hair as his eyes filled with panic and his breathing grew ragged. 

No. No, this cannot be. 

But it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Ignis gets his audience with Luna at last, and Aranea and Prompto have a heart-to-heart. 
> 
> Yes, that's right. Future Aranea is... I CAN'T EVEN SAY IT. 
> 
> I debated making her demise something more fitting of our beloved dragoon, but I felt like Aranea's too sharp to go down in a daemon fight. If anything was gonna take her down, it would have to be a moment when she truly has her guard down—like driving on a warm, sunny day, a reprieve at last after 10 years of always being on edge. 
> 
> Clearly, this changes everything for Ignis. I'm excited (and scared) to see where this goes next. 
> 
> What do you think? Can Ignis somehow save future Aranea?


	11. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea and Prompto have a bonding moment, while Ignis recovers and deals with the aftermath of his revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to get this chapter up before my trip to Los Angeles/E3, but it needed a final edit on the plane and I got really airsick and had to stop. But now I'm back home and on track again :) 
> 
> I also wanted to address that I had some unfavorable comments on FFnet about the presence of Promptis in this story. I haven't seen any on AO3, but I just want to say that I am continuing to write that storyline. I have always tagged the pairing as being a part of this. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, and that's totally fine, but I didn't expect that anyone would find it surprising that Promptis was going to be a thing here when I had always been upfront about it. 
> 
> My view on the matter is that it doesn't matter what gender or sexual orientation we are talking about with these relationships. I like these pairings because of the dynamics of the characters. Many fans can't see Ignis as anything but gay, and that's cool too. I personally see him as fluid and as someone who would be 1000% smitten with Aranea. For Prompto, his deep bond with Noctis can definitely go into romance for me. I don't even think it's a question of him being gay or not. He just loves Noct. 
> 
> Anyway, wanted to say that I'm staying true to my pairing choices here and hope that readers can look past labels and think of the personalities and dynamics instead. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who is reading, commenting, or quietly enjoying this story in their own way <3

The hospital was too bright, too loud. There were inhuman moans of pain, machines making unsettling sounds, and doctors and nurses rushing about, trying very hard to look very calm. 

Ignis wasn’t buying it. This attack had been bad, and the Nifs were rattled. The great Niflheim Empire, letting their guard down so heedlessly—he understood. Sometimes all it takes is one moment of innocent distraction and a rotting bridge to throw life into chaos. 

Ignis shook his head. He felt sick every time he remembered the feeling of his hands holding Aranea’s limp—

Stop it. 

He focused on his pains instead; the physical ones were easier to contend with. Broken ribs, a sprained ankle, countless bruises—this will take a few days of healing, even with a slew of potions. But the pain was good. The pain was distracting. It anchored him to the present, and in this present, Aranea was alive and well. 

A nurse came up to him. 

“Morphine?” she offered as she glanced at his chart. 

“No.”

“You sure?” 

She raised a brow. 

“How long have I been out?” Ignis asked. 

“All night. You gave us a few scares, you know. Sure you don’t need something for the pain?”

“I’d rather not.” Then Ignis remembered his manners and added, “Thank you.”

The nurse skitted off before he could ask for anything else, like when Aranea and Prompto would be allowed to visit. He assumed they must still be nearby. He wanted nothing more than to see them. 

—

The waiting room smelled like something rotten—panic mixed with nerves and grief. Aranea didn’t like it. 

Prompto set a coffee and a sad, squished pastry in front of her on the coffee table. 

“Here, got you some food,” he said, sitting down next to her. “It was all I could find. Busy day at the hospital, I guess…” 

“Thanks.”

She ate the pastry in two bites and washed it down with the coffee. Better not to savor this meal for too long. 

“Any updates?” Prompto asked. 

“No,” Aranea replied, “but the doctor said he’s through the worst of it.” 

“I just hope he’s not in too much pain.”

“He fell off a roof, Prompto.” 

“So did you, and you seem fine.”

“Guess I’m better with heights.” 

She was being too snarky and didn’t know why. Prompto was trying, and yet she wanted to scream at him—or better yet, punch something really hard. Maybe she needed to stop talking about Ignis. 

“I just… need him to be okay,” Prompto said. 

“Quit being so mopey, blondie. We need to focus. Niflheim was attacked by Lucians. Who knows what they’re going to do next?”

“Nothing, not anytime soon,” Prompto said, a little too certain. 

“And how do you know that?”

“Uh…” 

Aranea leaned in. He was clearly trying to come up with some sort of excuse. 

“It just seems risky,” he continued. “The Nifs took out a lot of Glaives and Lucian soldiers. Why keep wasting resources after a failed mission?” 

“Failed? They seem to have done exactly what they wanted: They took out a sizeable chunk of the Niflheim army.”

“But they didn’t rescue Lunafreya,” Prompto said. 

“Lunafreya?” Aranea’s brows furrowed. “How do you know that was part of their plan?”

Prompto’s fingers twitched in a flurry before he shoved them between his thighs. 

“I just figured it made sense, y’know?” he said. “Surely they’re trying to get her back.” 

“Guess so,” Aranea said, but she couldn’t shut the alarm bells off in her head. “You know what they’re going to do to any Lucians they catch, right?”

“What?”

“They’re going to be tortured, and it’s going to be long and excruciating. The Nifs will be trying to get any information out of them that they can—including the names of spies.”

She waited to see a reaction to the word, but Prompto barely registered it. Her suspicions waged war in her head. One moment, she would be convinced that Ignis and Prompto were spies and she should probably turn them in, and then—

Then she would be swaying gently in Ignis’ arms, finding his scent comforting and heady. Turning him in was the furthest thing from her mind. 

Until, of course, he seemed to know something a bit too conveniently well. Or he would speak in urgent, hushed whispers with Prompto. She pretended to be none the wiser, but she saw everything. 

“I’m just really glad Ignis is recovering,” Prompto said. “I would have been so screwed without him.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He always knows what to do. He’s the smartest person I know. He takes really good care of all of us…”

“‘Us’? Who is ‘us’?”

Aranea felt a heaviness in her stomach. She imagined Ignis with some sort of family that she didn’t know about—a lover, a wife, children even. 

“I just mean me and our friends,” Prompto said. “We’re a really close group.”

“He never talked about it before.”

“He’s a pretty private guy.”

“So, is everyone a friend in that group?” Aranea ventured. “Or are any of them ‘friends,’ with proverbial quotation marks?” 

It took Prompto a second, but he raised his brows when he realized what she was asking. 

“No, no, no. Just friends! It’s just four guys. Nothing like that going on between anyone.” 

Prompto’s fingers fluttered again, and Aranea could tell he was getting uncomfortable. 

“So you’re like brothers?” 

“Yeah! Exactly. But not actually related.”

“Okay, so there’s you and Ignis. Who are the other two?”

“There’s Gladio. He’s big and strong, and basically helps Ignis keep us out of trouble—unless he’s getting into trouble himself. Usually it’s just with the ladies though; he knows how to keep his head on straight with everything else.”

Aranea nodded encouragingly. 

“And then there’s Noct—gar. Noctgar.”

“Interesting name.”

“Yeah. He’s kind of like the glue holding all of us together. And he’s… my best friend. Family, really. He’s like the most important person in my life.”

“Sounds like he’s really something special.”

“He’s definitely special. And dumb. He’s so dumb sometimes, Aranea, you have no idea.”

Aranea laughed, and Prompto joined in. It finally felt like a normal moment after the harrowing 24 hours they had, hoping that Ignis wouldn’t slip away. 

“What about you, do you have a girlfriend?” Aranea asked. 

“Nope.”

“How come? You’re not so bad.” 

“Aranea, are you trying to flirt with me?”

Prompto knocked his shoulder into hers playfully. Aranea half-heartedly punched him in return. 

“You’re not my type, blondie.”

“Y’know what? Neither are you, sister.” 

“What a great loss.” 

Aranea drained the last of her coffee. Between its predictably bitter taste and Prompto’s company, she was starting to feel a lot less like punching something. She had almost died too, and because Ignis was in a far worse condition, she had barely given it thought. But it rattled her on some level. 

“It’s nice of you to wait here for Ignis,” Prompto said. 

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll wait. He’s already done so much for me.”

“That’s just Iggy. Always looking out for everyone.”

Aranea smiled, imagining Ignis as this master caretaker. It seemed so ingrained in him; it was unlike anything she had known before. Her family was… well, they didn’t even come close. 

She closed her eyes and tried to picture them, but by now she had mostly forgotten. Blurred figures of ashen hair and pale skin, another girl with a doll in a yellow dress—that was all she could pull up. What kind of parents send their daughter away so young, and then never visit again? 

She promised she would never abandon any future child of her likes that. Not that she was even sure about having children. But if she ever did—well, she would be there, come hell or Leviathan’s water. 

“Pardon me,” The doctor’s voice brought Aranea back to the dreary waiting room. “He’s woken up.”

—

There have been several times that Prompto had felt an aching sort of loneliness. The first was when he was in school and had no friends. He would eat his burger by himself at lunch, wondering when he would get up the nerve to befriend someone—anyone. Even the Prince, crazy as it seemed. 

Then, when he was a teen, he went out with Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio as a group for the first time. He felt out of place with the Prince’s retinue, but Noctis had insisted he come along. All they did was play video games at the arcade and grab a meal after. It was nothing fancy (he had wondered if Noctis had arranged it so for his benefit) and there were certainly no misgivings from Ignis or Gladio. 

And yet, Prompto felt like the outsider who wasn’t in on the others’ private jokes or inner circle happenings. For the first time, he felt isolated from Noctis. When it was just the two of them, it was so different. 

Of course, this changed over time and he was just as devoted to his friendships with Ignis and Gladio as he was to Noctis. But that first day, the loneliness felt crippling. 

And now, watching Aranea walk up to Ignis’ hospital bed, he felt that deep emptiness again. 

Aranea reached for Ignis’ hand, and he squeezed back weakly. Prompto could see the desperation in Ignis’ eyes to do more, just underneath that well-practiced control. Aranea sat next to him, explaining how they had been worried all night that he might not pull through. The air between them was electric, but not necessarily with desire. No, it was replaced by a gentle longing, an embrace long withheld or a kiss that both were too hesitant to initiate. 

Prompto knew this all too well. He thought of Noctis and wished for him to be here, to hold his hand and take him in those lean arms of his and tell him that it wasn’t so bad. Instead, Prompto felt the cold chill of the hospital room, feeling slightly irritated from too many machines beeping in the background. 

He walked over to Ignis’ bed, going around the opposite side, and sat down too. He took Ignis’ free hand. Ignis looked at him and smiled weakly. He was still a devilishly handsome man, despite the cuts and bruises and messy hair. 

“Are you all right?” Ignis whispered to him. 

“Iggy, are you serious? You’re lying in a hospital bed, and you’re worried about me?”

“I always am.”

“I’m fine. And today, let us worry about you, ’kay?”

“Very well.” 

Prompto squeezed Ignis’ hand and then looked at Aranea, who gave him a warm smile. 

Maybe he could feel a little bit less lonely with the two of them. 

—

“Hey Four Eyes, how are ya?” 

Ignis felt something in him lighten at the sound of that voice, and he shifted on the bench where he sat to face in her direction. 

“Miss Aranea Highwind, what a pleasure.” 

“ _Lady_ Highwind.” 

“Of course, _m’lady_.”

She laughed, and he felt an unexpected surge at the sound. He was still getting accustomed to his sight being gone, and he had been finding that he was reading further into the intricacies hidden in someone’s voice. Gladio kept a forcefield of protection over the cracks that were forming; Prompto’s sadness was nearly unbearable. 

And Aranea, she sounded almost bashful as she laughed—and bashful was hardly a word he ever associated with her. 

“Care for some company?” she asked. Before he could answer, she joined him on the bench. 

“It’s a lovely view,” Ignis said. 

He couldn’t actually see the Rock of Ravatogh burning in the distance from the lookout in Lestallum, but his memories were still sharp. 

“Probably better you hold onto the version you see in your head,” Aranea said. 

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s gotten a bit… grim. The sky, it looks acrid.”

“Perhaps I am lucky then.” 

“Lucky to be alive, that’s for sure.” Aranea shifted on the bench, and Ignis sensed her warmth closer to him. “I still can’t believe that stunt you pulled with the ring.”

“I did what I had to.”

“There was probably another way.”

“I assure you that I found myself out of options.”

“That’s cause you didn’t have me there, watching your back. Just that useless High Commander.” 

“Ravus no doubt fails to hold a candle to the fierce Lady Highwind.” Then, a thought occurred to Ignis. “Aranea, where were you during the fight with Leviathan?”

“Ugh. I was supposed to be there,” Aranea said. “Probably would have turned on the Empire right then and there, too. But Ardyn has a sixth sense, you know. He changed my orders last minute. Must have known I was having second thoughts about my allegiances. He had me stay at Steyliff Grove.” 

“That is a shame. We could have used your help.”

“Yeah, well, it is what it is. The moment I heard about the Oracle though, that was when I handed in my two weeks notice. And I promise you, I didn’t work a day of those last two weeks.” 

“I am very glad you are now our ally, Aranea.”

“Ally? That all?”

“And perhaps a friend,” Ignis added. 

“A friend. Yeah, sure,” she said. “I guess Biggs and Wedge are getting kind of boring. Oh, who am I kidding, I love those idiots. But I could always use more intellectual conversations. I’m also kidding, they’re actually really smart guys. You get the point though.”

“The more, the merrier.”

“Exactly.”

Ignis considered the prospect of Aranea’s friendship. Yes, it was a good option. And yet he was a bit bothered by the label. 

“Aranea, what is your favorite meal?”

“Hmm… there are so many. Maybe a shrimp noodle dish.”

“I shall make one for you.”

“Why?”

“I like to keep my friends well-fed.” 

“That sounds great, but I gotta ask. How? Cause if you mistake the sugar for the salt, I’m not pretending to like it.”

“I need excuses to practice,” Ignis considered. “If I’m going to learn to fight again in the field, I better learn to wield a butcher’s knife again too.”

“Fair point. How about I help you?”

“Cook?”

“Yeah. I’m useless in the kitchen, but I can read a label.” 

“That would be most appreciated.” 

Ignis felt a hand take his. It was strong, despite its size, and a little rough. It fit so nicely in his own. 

“It’s a deal,” Aranea said, putting a determined shake on it. 

—

Ignis felt a hand in his. It was a familiar size, but softer than he remembered—not quite as many calluses or scars. He blinked his eyes open and saw the youthful face of Aranea. 

He had been drifting in and out of sleep for the last day or so, but she was always there whenever he awoke. 

“Good,” she said. “You’re up.” 

“Apologies, I’ve been very tired,” Ignis managed. 

“You need to rest. I just didn’t want you waking up and wondering where we went. But Prompto and I are getting stinky and need to go back to the hotel to change, okay? We’ll be back as soon as we can.” 

“Take all the time you need.”

Aranea squeezed his hand, and he returned it weakly. He wanted to pull her in close, but he was worried she might find it too much. Instead, he watched her stand and walk away. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Aranea joked as she left the room, closing the door behind her. 

Ignis smiled, and then his smile waned as he recalled his dream—a conversation he once had with an older Aranea, early on in the days of darkness in Lestallum. He still had to find a way back to his own timeline, to Lucie—oh Astrals, could she be there all by herself, wondering where her parents are? 

They had left her with Prompto—though it was Lucie taking care of a grieving Prompto, if anything—and promised to be back by evening. 

The hospital room door opened again, and Ignis turned, expecting to see Aranea walk in. Instead, a different head of silver hair appeared. 

“Knock, knock,” Ravus said. 

“Ravus?”

“I’m afraid I’m not here for karaoke.” Without waiting for an invitation, Ravus entered and pulled up a chair next to Ignis’ bed. “You’ve seen better days.” 

“I did have a small tumble off a roof,” Ignis retorted. 

“Fair point.”

Ignis squinted at the High Commander—or whatever his title was right now. 

“What are you doing here, Ravus?”

“Well, you see, my sister and I are doing rounds at the hospital, keeping spirits high. Nothing quite like parading around the Oracle to Nif soldiers after a Lucian attack.”

“Indeed.” 

“And I saw your two friends leaving, so I thought I would pay a visit. As a part of my duty, of course.” 

“Of course.”

“You recognized me at the bar the other night.” The bite in Ravus’ voice was retreating to a simmer. “You said you _time traveled_.” 

“I did. It’s true. And as of recently, I am starting to remember how.” 

“Please, enlighten me.”

“It was a Crystal Shard, found at Steyliff Grove. It sent me back upon contact.” 

“The Crystal…” Ravus looked thoughtful. “If what you say is true, then perhaps Luna ought to know about this.” 

Ravus stood up and left the room, the door slightly ajar. Ignis waited, wondering if he was bringing Luna back, or simply going to inform her. 

As the minutes stretched out, Ignis lost hope that Luna was coming. He was probably so close to her though, if she was in the hospital. Now was his chance. He pushed himself up, grunting with the effort, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Everything hurt, but he had to find Luna. 

For Aranea. For Lucie. 

As he was about to pull out his IV, the door opened a little wider as a small, lithe hand wrapped itself on the frame. 

“Pardon me.” a soft, young voice said. “May I come in?”

Ignis looked up to see a fair-haired teenage girl enter, a little timid but at the same time regal and bearing the weight of the world on her shoulders already. 

“Luna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Ignis gets his first sign of hope for returning to his timeline, while Aranea and Prompto play nurse. 
> 
> I know last chapter I promised Ignis gets his audience with Luna, but the flow of the chapter came out this way instead. I promise, it's happening next chapter for sure now! 
> 
> Hopefully these transitionary chapters are still interesting to read. I feel like, after all the action and revelations, it needed a breather. But I really miss HighSpecs angst, so next chapter, I'm definitely going to work some sweet Ignis x Aranea moments into it. 
> 
> Anything you'd like to see these crazy kids do?


	12. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis finally gets his audience with Luna. Aranea's feelings for Ignis deepen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the thing. I had a juicy, smutty flashback scenario planned for this chapter. Except after I wrote it, I realized it's over 3000 words long... just for the smutty flashback! It was going to make this chapter hella long, so I'm posting it for the next one. 
> 
> Plus given where we left off in chapter 11, it just didn't make sense. This scene with Luna needed to happen. I did throw in some HighSpecs fluff at the end though, cause I'm definitely on a route back to more angst. 
> 
> I'll post the smutty flashback soon though. It's written, and I'm nearly done with editing. In the meantime, enjoy some plot and fluff!

“Hello, sir. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Her voice was reserved, quiet. She didn’t have to raise it to prove anything because she already knew just how powerful she was—and how valuable. 

“Lady Lunafreya,” Ignis whispered. He dropped the IV he was about to pull from his arm. 

“Please, just Luna.” 

He had seen her at the Brawl’s party a few nights ago, but he was struck by her presence even so. How could someone be at once so unassuming, and yet command the room? 

“Please, come in,” he said, realizing she had been waiting patiently by the door. 

“Thank you. May I sit?”

“Of course.”

Luna folded her hands on her lap as she settled into a chair. She considered Ignis silently, and he got the sensation that she was searching for more than just his physical injuries. 

“You are in much pain,” she said, “but it’s not only your wounds. Your heart aches.”

“I… I have had a terrible revelation.” 

“I’m sorry to hear.” 

“There is still hope, I think.” 

“May the Six grant it.” 

Ignis huffed. The Six had hardly been looking out for him and his friends when they needed it most. When Noctis needed it most. 

“My brother tells me you have an interesting story to share,” Luna continued. 

“I do.” 

“Then please, tell me.” 

“I believe I traveled back through time after touching a Crystal Shard.” 

“Crystal Shard?” Luna looked thoughtful. “I thought those were just a myth, that the Crystal could not be separated.”

“It can be, but only by the Ring of the Lucii.” 

“And how did you come across it?”

“It was abandoned at Steyliff Grove. I’m not certain how, but it’s there about 18 years from now.” 

“And you have come from 18 years into the future?” 

Luna’s voice remained calm and unchanged, not at all judgemental. 

“That is exactly what I believe happened. I don’t know how to get back, but I must. It’s a matter of life or death.”

The desperation in Ignis’ voice got the slightest of furrowed brows from Luna. 

“Yes, you should return to your own timeline.”

“I need you to help me, Luna.” 

“I will help. I shall pray that you return to a sound place.”

Something about the way she said this unsettled Ignis. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he said. 

“I know that you perceive what you say as true.”

“I’m telling you, I’m from the future.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” Luna sighed “My brother probably thought this was amusing—he’s not always the most tactful. But please know that I have all my faith in your imminent recovery. Allow me to give you strength.”

Luna reached her hands toward Ignis’ temples, but he swatted them away. She seemed only slightly phased by it. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I only wished to instill a sense of calm.”

“Luna, please, listen to me. I’m calm. But I need you to believe me.”

He was starting to sound too unhinged, too desperate. It would never convince her. And then he remembered his greatest asset: his knowledge. 

“Ignis Scientia,” he said. 

“Pardon me?” Luna replied, her composure showing the first signs of cracking. 

“That is my name.”

“I know that name.”

Good, Ignis thought. He figured Noctis must have spoken about him at this point in the timeline, but he wouldn’t be known beyond the Prince’s closest circles. A Royal Advisor-in-training was hardly all that exciting for the general public. 

“But the only person I know with this name is in Lucis,” Luna continued. “And he would be much younger than you.” 

“And that version of myself may very well be in Insomnia as we speak, trying absurdly hard to balance his studies with running after Prince Noctis.”

“Noctis…?”

“Luna, I can prove to you that I am Ignis. I know that you and Noct communicate regularly through Umbra. I know how you send messages to one another in a notebook—brown leather, with a sylleblossom pressed inside. I know that King Regis still feels guilty for leaving you and Ravus behind…”

Luna slowly reached for his hand and closed her eyes, breathing in and out and feeling his pulse. 

“I feel you are telling the truth,” she whispered at last. “If what you say is so, then by the Six, you must know so much.”

Ignis nodded, sadness clouding over his expression as he thought about the things that burdened him. About how Luna was long dead in his timeline. And how Noctis was now with her. 

“Yes, it’s very painful,” Luna said, “but I promise, I will not ask for you to tell me what comes to pass. Instead, tell me how I can help you.” 

Ignis let out a big breath. 

“Thank you, Luna.” 

He explained everything that had transpired—how he woke in a snowy clearing, found his way to Gralea, and met the younger Aranea. Luna, of course, didn’t know who she was, and Ignis hadn’t known their fates to intertwine much, so he told her about his life with the older Aranea—and her supposed death. He wanted Luna to understand why he felt so attached to the younger one now. 

He also mentioned Prompto. Luna’s face lit up at his name; she so wanted to meet him, but she worried about the interaction impacting events. Ignis agreed, but he felt sad at the same time. After all, Prompto and Luna never got to in his timeline, and Prompto always regretted it. 

“Perhaps in the future then,” Luna said. “But tell me. How can I help you get to Insomnia? I have no powers over paperwork.”

“I was hoping you could get a message to King Regis,” Ignis said. “Perhaps Umbra could go to him directly?”

“It would be difficult. It’s hard to explain, but Umbra is tied to Noctis and would only deliver a message to him. Which we would probably want to avoid, lest Noctis reads it…” 

“Of course.”

“But perhaps Pryna could be of help… I can try sending a vision to King Regis through her.”

“A vision?”

“Yes. It would feel somewhat like a dream, but different. I cannot promise how clear it will be, but it’s the best I can do.” 

“That would already be more than enough. I need to find a way to him, and he’s constantly surrounded by security. It’s almost impossible to enter the Citadel without proper clearance.”

“I will try my best. I do want to help you, Ignis.” 

“Thank you, Luna. Truly, thank you.” 

Ignis teared up despite himself. There was hope at last; he could go home. But then he may have to face the worst pain imaginable. For the first time, he felt torn. 

Luna stood up and took him in her arms. She looked so small and fragile, but she felt steady and comforting. Ignis let her hold him, and he felt some of his pain mitigating. Not disappearing, but becoming more manageable. 

“One more thing,” Luna said. “If you’re ever worried about impacting your timeline, I do have some control over memories.”

“How so?”

“I can take them away. But I cannot take away the feelings that were created. You can forget a lover, but not the love—or pain—that you felt because of them. I can also do the opposite, and bring out memories that have been suppressed.” 

“Perhaps I can ask for your help with one more thing. I would like to ensure I’m not forgetting any details about how I got here, in case something could be of help.” 

“Are you certain? It can be very emotionally taxing to relive such difficult events.”

Ignis didn’t want to relive any more pain than he had to, but this wasn’t about him. 

“Yes. I can do this.”

“Very well. Breathe deeply then…” 

Luna brought her fingers to Ignis’ temples. He closed his eyes and braced himself. 

A shower and change of clothes could do great things for a person. Prompto and Aranea felt much better now that they were refreshed. The two walked back to Ignis’ hospital room with a pep in their step. They were ready to take on the world again—or, in this case, Ignis’ care. They were also ahead of schedule, back earlier than they had anticipated. 

Prompto opened the door, but the scene before him stopped him in his tracks. 

Ignis was lying on the bed, writhing in pain, tears streaming from his eyes. Luna had her fingers on his temples, light radiating from them, as she watched him calmly but sympathetically. 

“Stop it! What are you doing?!” Aranea screamed, running over to pull Luna off Ignis. 

“Wait!” Prompto yelled as he restrained Aranea. “He’s in some sort of trance. Let him come out of it naturally.”

The light from Luna’s fingers diminished and she sat back, a bead of sweat running down her cheek. Ignis stopped moving, his breath slowing down as he opened his eyes. Aranea and Prompto watched in confusion. 

“Did you find what you needed?” Luna asked, ignoring Prompto and Aranea. 

“Yes,” Ignis gasped. 

“I am so sorry if it was painful.” 

“Don’t apologize, Luna. I asked you to.” 

Then Ignis finally noticed Aranea and Prompto standing there. He looked at Aranea with such intense longing, and she seemed to feel this because she walked right to him. It looked like she might embrace him, until she locked eyes with Luna. 

“Lady Aranea,” Luna said quietly, but the sadness couldn’t be hidden in her voice. It unnerved Aranea, and an uncomfortable shiver ran through her body. She thought the Oracle was supposed to be comforting—so much for that. 

“Ignis, I wish you well,” Luna said, taking Ignis’ hands. “Pryna and I shall pray for you tonight.” 

“Thank you again. Godspeed.” 

Luna made her way to the door, but stopped at the sight of Prompto. His jaw was almost to the floor. 

“Lady Lunafreya!” he said. 

“Prompto!” she cried, her mood suddenly shifting, her youthful exuberance coming out. Luna threw her arms around Prompto and hugged him close. 

“Let’s not say a word,” she whispered to him. 

There were many things Prompto had thought about telling her over the years, and he got the feeling that she felt the same, but it was probably safer to just hold one another. And it felt right. He could feel her gratitude, her warmth, and something else. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he accepted it anyway. They stayed in an embrace until Ravus opened the door. 

“Luna,” he said, gesturing to her that it was time to leave. A few Niflheim soldiers paced behind him. 

“Yes,” she said, withdrawing from Prompto. “Goodbye, everyone. May the Astrals guide you.”

And with that, Luna left. Prompto was frozen in place, arms still at the ready to take someone within them. Aranea turned her attention back to Ignis, who was sweating and looking a little worse for wear. 

“What did she do to you?” she said, sitting next to him and running a hand through his messy hair. 

“She was helping with the pain,” Ignis said, not wanting to admit to Aranea that he remembered everything. It was far better if he kept up the facade. 

“It looked more like she was _giving_ you pain.” 

“I’m feeling better already. I promise.”

“Well, good then, I guess. We should think about going back to Gralea,” Aranea said. 

Ignis nodded his agreement. 

“What about me?” Prompto piped up. 

“Guess you’re coming with us, blondie.” 

For someone who was always so meticulous, Aranea was done trying to decipher if Ignis and Prompto were genuine or not. Keeping watch over them seemed like the best way forward. After all, if they were spies, it was better that they were under her eye. 

And if they weren’t, well… No one had ever been there for her like this before. And she had to admit—

She liked it. 

Ignis was to be discharged in the morning, but for now, he had one more night under observation. Aranea and Prompto had gone back to the hotel, so Ignis was surprised when there was a quiet knock on the door at midnight. 

“Yes, come in,” Ignis said. He wasn’t able to sleep from the discomfort anyway. 

“Hey.” A surprisingly meek Aranea entered, closing the door behind her. “I was worried you might be sleeping.” 

Ignis smiled. He would wake from the deepest of sleeps just to rub her back when she was pregnant. This was hardly an interruption. 

“Still wide awake. What brings you back here?”

“I don’t know… Guess I’m still a bit shook up from everything. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Security has greatly increased in Tenebrae. I’m certain you are safe.”

“Yeah. But we _did_ almost die.” 

She was awkwardly standing halfway between the bed and the door, seemingly unsure about her decision to visit. 

“Come here,” Ignis said. 

Aranea walked up to him. She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. She must have already been in bed. 

“Why don’t we watch some terrible television?” Ignis offered. 

“Is Real Housewives of Tenebrae on?” 

“I’d be disappointed if it weren’t.” 

Ignis clicked through the channels as Aranea sat on the edge of the bed. He shifted to give her space, then moved the covers so she could climb in if she wanted. He did it so naturally, as he always did with the Aranea he’d been living with for so many years. 

This Aranea seemed a little hesitant though, but she crawled in anyway and slowly relaxed into the pillow. 

They sat closely, bodies pressed against one another, but neither would make a move to do anything more. It reminded Ignis of his early courtship with the older Aranea. She had been so scared to get too close. Every time they made some progress, she would pull away. He had wondered how he would ever get out of the friend zone. Even when they crossed the line in the early days, at least physically, he would find himself back at square one the next day. 

They fell asleep eventually, still pressed side-to-side. Ignis’ last thought, as he drifted off, was how he didn’t even feel like he was with an Aranea of any particular age. 

He was simply with the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY WHO IS READY FOR HIGHSPECS SMUT NEXT CHAPTER?!?!?!??!!?!? :D :D :D :D


	13. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis recalls a fond—and rather sexy—memory of his courtship with Aranea. (In other words, SMUT.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew one could talk about foot rubs, eating out, and ass licking for so long—but here we are! If you don't like smut, you can safely skip this chapter and not miss much plot. On the other hand, it gives a bit more insight into Ignis and Aranea's main timeline courtship. 
> 
> Enjoy the first real taste of smut here, folks. Pun intended ;)

The countryside rushed by, a haze of green gradually dotted by the snows of Gralea. Ignis watched from the train, forehead pressed against the window, trying his best not to move. He had been released from the hospital in Tenebrae, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still in pain. 

A sleeping Prompto sat next to him. Aranea was in the seat across, and very quiet. 

What was she thinking? Was she feeling awkward for falling asleep in his hospital bed? When Ignis woke up, she was gone, though not for long as she soon returned with coffee (for which his gratitude was unending). But he knew Aranea had stayed in bed for a long time, because Ignis had stirred awake as the sun rose and cast a soft light on her face. Then his eyes grew heavy again. 

Gods, she really was breathtaking. 

He couldn’t believe he’d spent the last 10 years relying only on his hands and imagination. The older Aranea always told him not to dwell on it, and for the most part he didn’t. 

Except now. Now, he had a reason to be angry—to feel rage at the injustice of not seeing her face in the soft morning light for all these years. 

Or perhaps he should be thankful for this miraculous gift of sight he had received. 

Ignis stole a quick glance at Aranea, then continued watching the passing countryside, the train gently swaying him side-to-side. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but he also knew her well enough to sense that she wanted to be left to her thoughts. 

So instead, Ignis’ mind drifted. It went back in time—or forward, depending on how he looked at it—and replayed moments with the older Aranea. He particularly liked to think of their long-winded courtship when he missed her most. 

They had played a game of push-and-pull for months—years even. At first, it was just a one-time incident in the Vesperpool that was surely better off not happening again. Then, they got into a funny habit of recurring one-time incidents, followed by promises of not making that mistake again. And then, eventually, there was an agreement that it was just a physical thing, a bit of relief in their stressful lives that no one needed to know about. 

Clearly, they were terrible at keeping to their agreements. 

Ignis closed his eyes and let the memories take over. He smiled to himself. 

They had been truly awful at not falling in love. 

—

The building was like many of the others in Lestallum; a little bit old and outdated, but still sturdy. If anything, it had a classic charm that Ignis liked. At least he had liked it, when he could see it. Now, his hands had to tell the story. 

The main entrance was open—the lock was broken on the wooden door, he noted—so he walked up the uneven stairs to the top floor, relying on his hands to guide him. 

He traced the numbers on the doors till he found 42 and knocked. He held tightly onto the dossier from Cor, and noticed his hands had gotten sweaty. 

He hadn’t seen much of Aranea since their first mission together in the Vesperpool region three months ago, an intentional move on both their parts. Things had gotten very heated on that final night they had spent together in the tent. It was intense, much-needed release. It was the first time Ignis had been intimate with anybody since losing his sight. It was perfect. 

But as soon as they were back in Lestallum, Aranea pulled away. He barely saw her for the following month, until he finally caught her at a cafe and cleared the air. She didn’t want to complicate things, and he didn’t want her ignoring him. Perhaps they could be friends and forget about what happened. She agreed, and they continued a somewhat distant but respectful acquaintanceship. 

Ignis had gotten used to it. He pushed away thoughts of her naked body under him. He ignored the pangs of yearning for her warm voice, tinged with an undeniably charming sarcasm. And then Cor came along with an assignment for the two of them—they were the only hunters not out on a mission. 

Cor needed someone to investigate increased daemon activity in the surrounding regions. Nothing too far from Lestallum, but there were several spots to hit and no vehicles to get them there, with all the transport being used to move refugees and goods. They would have to plan their supplies and timing well. 

Cor gave Ignis an overview, then handed him a dossier with the locations and suggested he visit Aranea so she could look it over and help formulate a plan for the next day. Cor had already called her to let her know, and she said she would be in her apartment, resting from another mission. Ignis was, of course, welcome to swing by and discuss logistics. 

And here he was, feeling suddenly nervous at her door. He hadn’t been alone with her since that last night in the tent. 

He knocked again, and still no answer. Then he heard a faint “come in, it’s unlocked!” from the other side of the door. He stepped inside carefully; a new space was always a trap for falling over things. 

“Ignis?” Aranea’s voice called, still somewhat muffled. 

“Yes. I have the instructions from Cor.”

“Good. I’m in here, just come in,” 

Ignis followed her voice and, sure enough, found another door. He entered and heard the sound of trickling water as he was bombarded by the smell of soap. 

“Is this your bathroom?” he asked. 

“Yeah. I’m in the tub. Have a seat, the toilet’s a few steps ahead and to your left.”

Ignis didn’t move. This was hardly how he expected to find her, much less hold a meeting. 

“Relax,” she said. “It’s not like you can see me.”

“Regardless, this isn’t exactly conducive for planning.”

“Maybe not, but I just got back from the mission from hell. Everything hurts. I need a long soak.” 

Ignis sighed. “Very well…”

He carefully stepped forward and found the toilet, sitting down on the lid. Astrals, she was naked. He heard water moving and a slight groan from Aranea—though not one of pleasure. 

“Are you hurt?” Ignis asked. 

“Nothing serious. I got a bit of whiplash, I think. A Red Giant winded me from behind. And my feet are going to be the end of me.” 

“Perhaps you should consider more practical footwear.”

“Never.” 

Ignis cleared his throat and tried not to picture what she must look like right now. 

_Focus on the task. Focus._

“Shall we go through the instructions?” he said. 

“Sure.”

“We are to head about 14 miles to the east first.”

“14 miles?! That’s like a half marathon!”

“Is that a problem?”

“Considering we’re low on vehicles and my feet are killing me, yeah. Kinda.”

“We can take our time if we plan efficiently, as long as we’re back in Lestallum by nightfall.” 

“Fine. I should have never let Wedge borrow my bike.” 

Ignis was inclined to agree. Riding on her motorcycle had felt incredibly freeing on their Vesperpool mission. 

“Then the following day, we will head west,” he continued. “Only 8 miles out.”

“Thank the Astrals.”

“Cor said he will need some samples of the daemons we find, so we will need to take equipment.”

“Ugh.”

“We must plan out what we can carry.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, can we put a rest to this for a moment?” Aranea said. 

Ignis heard the water splashing again. 

“I just need a minute. I’m annoyed and exhausted,” she continued. “Not at you. Just… today was a tough one.”

Ignis understood. The daemons have been increasing, and it was taking a toll on all the hunters—even the fiercest ones, like Aranea. He placed the dossier on the sink. It felt rather redundant for him to be holding it like he could still read it. 

“Anything I can do?”

Aranea laughed. “Rub my feet?” 

“Certainly.”

“I’m just kidding.” 

“I’m not. If it will help, I am happy to oblige.” 

“Hmm… You mean it? It’s not too weird? Cause I’m tempted to take you up on this offer.”

Ignis smiled and stretched out his hands, finding the edge of the tub. He opened his palms and waited for her to place a foot in them. 

“Okay then,” Aranea sighed. 

Her foot landed in his hands, and he wrapped his fingers around it. It was smaller than he expected, maybe a little wide. He felt for her arch and pressed into it. Aranea groaned. 

“Yes, that’s the spot.”

Even though Ignis had touched her in so many places just three months ago, this somehow felt far more intimate. Perhaps it was their agreement to only be friends, or the thought that a naked Aranea was casually lounging in a bath. Ignis felt a rush of warmth—he wanted nothing more than to make her feel good. 

“Sorry I’m making you do this,” Aranea said, “but oh man, do I need this…”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

“So what’s the catch?”

“Catch?”

“There’s always a catch,” Aranea said with a low laugh. “No one gives out free foot rubs.”

“I assure you, there is no catch,” Ignis replied. “Well, I suppose if I’m in need of a foot rub myself one day, I may call upon you. But lucky for you, I wear sensible shoes.” 

“In that case, consider it done.” 

Aranea went silent, taking longer and shallower breaths. Ignis wondered if she was sleeping, but then she wordlessly switched feet and he got to work on the other. Despite his efforts, he still conjured up images of what she must look like. He imagined her breasts floating, pink nipples grazing the surface of the water, her features relaxing. 

He worked her foot with strong, lengthy fingers, finding all of the pressure points he himself liked. He listened intently for her breathing, focusing on the spots that seemed the most relaxing. 

All of his hard work from the last few months was getting undone. His attempts at getting her out of his mind now seemed moot. 

“Hmm... thank you,” Aranea whispered, removing her foot from Ignis’ hands. “That was incredible.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He heard her stand up. Her naked body must be so close to him, just a short reach away. He was blind, yes, but surely she must have been aware of what this was doing to him. 

“Could you hand me the towel hanging on the door?” she asked. 

Ignis got up and found it easily. He heard her step out of the bath and instinctively wrapped the towel around her shoulders, running his hands down her back as he pressed it to her skin. 

No, it was too close, too familiar. 

He grabbed the dossier from the sink and exited the bathroom. What was he doing? 

“Thanks for being patient with the bath thing,” he heard Aranea say as she followed him. I really needed it. Don’t worry, I would have done the same around Biggs and Wedge.” 

“Good to know.”

Ignis couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, though he wouldn’t have been surprised if she acted this way around all her men. And yet… 

“None of them ever give me foot rubs though,” she added, stepping past him to do something—get dressed? “I’m almost relaxed enough to work again. Almost.” 

Ignis reached out and gently caught her arm. He turned her toward him, not really thinking. 

“Perhaps we should ensure that you are completely relaxed then,” he said, pulling her closer. His mind had gone blank; he was all visceral action. “Sit down somewhere.” 

She didn’t say anything, just took a few steps behind her, pulling him along. He felt her shift downwards and something creaked—a bed. He noted how small her apartment was. 

Ignis knelt down and placed his hands on Aranea’s hips, finding the towel wrapped around her. 

“Lay back,” he said gently. 

He waited for a protest, a sarcastic line about friends not saying such things to one another. Instead, she did as he’d asked. 

He unwrapped the towel. She was fully naked again, and she didn’t stop him. His hands found their way around her hips, her soft skin. His fingers quivered; he didn’t realize just how much he had longed to touch her again. 

He pushed her thighs apart, and she offered no resistance. He knew what she needed and he wanted to give it to her. 

He lightly kissed her inner thighs and made his way up, up, up. Just as he was reaching her inner curve, Aranea propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Ignis…”

It was a question, a statement—but not a warning. 

“No need to worry,” he said. “There is no catch. I won’t be asking you for anything in return.”

“But—”

“This doesn’t have to change anything, Aranea. Just close your eyes. Or I can stop, if you prefer.”

“No.” She stretched out on the bed. “No… Keep going.”

He licked her firmly in response, running his tongue flat across the velvety lips between her thighs. She groaned, and he massaged her more. Her skin smelled of soap, and he could feel her throbbing under his tongue, like a small heartbeat. He took his time, focusing on relaxing her rather than trying to make her come. 

His tongue found every fold and worked his way around. He went lower and lower, till he was running his tongue along the tighter hole just behind. Aranea sighed in response and he continued to lick her there, his face pressed against her round cheeks as she raised her hips to allow him better access. 

It felt so intimate, her allowing him to be there. He hadn’t dared go so far in the tent. His tongue made small yet firm circles on her hole as he felt her get increasingly relaxed. When he was satisfied, he moved back up to her lips, gently sucking on them. He used two fingers to part them, and his tongue snaked in to enter her. 

Aranea’s hands ran through his hair in response, her breath rising. She tasted even better than Ignis remembered, the sweetness mixing with something sharper but not unpleasant. She was getting very wet, and it excited him as a thin stream moved down his tongue, over his mouth, down his chin. 

She tightened around his tongue as he dug deeper, inhaling her scent. The night in the tent had been so frenzied; this was slow. He was taking every second to savor her, because it might be the only time she’ll let him. He wanted to remember everything, to construct her anatomy in his mind at will. 

He moved a little higher to her clit, and she gifted him with a sharp intake of breath, then a beautiful sigh of relief. He ran his tongue along it, keeping the pressure light and almost teasing as he put two fingers inside her. Aranea’s grip on his hair tightened, and she raised her hips against him, wanting more. He placed a third finger inside and massaged her clit harder with his tongue. 

Her moans were heavenly. 

Ignis moved faster, matching the intensity of her hips as they rubbed against his face. He felt almost painfully turned on, his erection feeling like it was ready to burst. All he wanted was to make her come. 

He read every subtle hint of movement, adjusting even the most minute details of his motions as necessary. Aranea was gasping and moving wildly now, like she wasn’t in control of her body anymore. He felt her getting tighter around his fingers, throbbing at lightning speed, and he went deeper and harder in response. 

“Ignis…” 

Aranea arched as she let out a cry, a few tones higher than her natural voice, and pressed her hips hard into Ignis’ face, her muscles tightening as waves of orgasm overtook her. A warm flood spilled on Ignis suddenly, but his mouth stayed firmly pressed onto her, allowing the wetness to wash over him. 

It was on his lips and fingers, inside his mouth. He tasted it and wanted more, and then another wave came in response. 

It was sweet and different, not like anything he had tasted before. But most of all, it came from Aranea. He wasn’t anywhere close to admitting it, but he had been falling in love since their first mission. He could push it away, pretend they were just friends, but the truth was that he wanted every inch of her, every taste of her. 

Aranea gasped for air as the last waves of her orgasm washed over and she curled up protectively around Ignis’ head between her thighs. For a moment, Ignis thought she seemed intent on keeping him there forever, and he was just about fine with that. 

Then, she relaxed her hold and went flat on the bed, taking big, heavy breaths. 

“Wow…” she breathed. 

Ignis removed his fingers, but kept tracing gentle circles on her now-swollen lips with his tongue, licking up the last of her wetness. He knew that the moment he stopped, he may never get to be this close again. He wanted to remember her scent, her taste, her shapes, her reactions, the way she came all over his face. 

As Aranea became too sensitive, she shifted away from him a touch. He kissed her lightly instead, moving to her inner thighs. She sat up, realizing exactly what had happened. 

“Oh, shit…” she breathed. “Wow. I’ve never made a mess like that before.” 

Ignis laughed. “Good thing you had a towel at hand.” 

“Yeah. But seriously, I’m sorry. I’ve honestly never had that happen. I didn’t even know I could... you know…”

“Don’t apologize. I very much enjoyed such a reaction.”

Ignis tried to play it coy, but inside he was screaming for more. He wanted to make her come this intensely again and again and again. 

“You learn something new everyday,” Aranea laughed. 

“Are you feeling more relaxed?” he asked. 

“Absolutely.”

He reached for the dossier. 

“Then we should probably finish going over the logistics for tomorrow.”

“How fun.”

If Aranea was surprised at his sudden shift back to business, she didn’t show it. Ignis didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t about to ask her what this meant; he had made it very clear that it didn’t have to change anything. He wanted to do this for her. That was all. 

He sat on the bed and handed her the dossier so she could follow along. He started talking about the following day’s trip, and Aranea listened intently as she looked over the pages. At the same time, he realized she had made no attempt at getting dressed. The most beautiful woman he had ever known was sitting next to him, naked, and he was reciting mission details. 

He could still taste her everywhere on him. Even his shirt collar was wet. It was some sort of miracle that they got through the planning. 

She walked him to the door when they were finished. 

“Aranea, are you still naked?” he asked. 

“Uh… Maybe?”

He smirked. 

“I may not be able to see you, but please don’t think for a second that I am not painfully aware.” 

“I’ll be sure to wear a bathrobe next time.” 

“Next time. Yes. Well then, have a good night. I hope you feel rested for tomorrow.” 

He opened the door. 

“Hey, Ignis…” 

Ignis waited with reserved anticipation. He knew better than to get his hopes too high with Aranea. 

“Thank you,” she said. “That was… unexpected. But also kind of amazing. I’m going to have to do a lot of laundry now though.” 

Ignis laughed. He knew this was the best he was getting. It would have to be enough. 

“Have a good night, Aranea,” he said, and slipped through the door. 

He thought he heard some other hesitation from her, a hitch of her breath perhaps. But he kept walking anyway. 

Years later, they would talk about his moment. Aranea would admit that she was falling for him fast and hard, but she had no idea what to make of it. So she put up walls that would last a while longer before she’d slowly allow them to be chipped away. 

And Ignis would admit to some furious self-pleasuring when he went back to his Lestallum hotel room later that night, her scent and taste thankfully still strong on his heightened senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Iggy, aren't you just the best? Seriously, this man is just so giving and amazing! 
> 
> What did you guys think of this? I still feel like a noob to writing smut, so I'd love to know how you felt about the writing here! 
> 
> I also decided to go with a flashback cause younger Aranea and older Ignis aren't quite ready for this kind of thing yet. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Aranea takes care of a recovering Ignis, and gets advice from an unlikely source. Ignis and Prompto finalize a plan to get to Lucis.


	14. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea gets love advice from an unexpected source. Ignis fills in Prompto on the plans to get to Lucis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After that sexy last chapter, we are back to some transitional plot stuff. I promise, we are building up to some angsty goodness though! Cause, you know, Aranea can't be left in the dark forever...

She had never been needed before. She took care of herself, and no one else. She hadn’t given it much thought; it was how her life was, a natural fit for someone who was so adept at being alone. 

Except now it didn’t feel so natural anymore. 

Aranea carefully handed the full coffee mug to Ignis, who grimaced as he sat up in her bed. She waited for him to a take sip. 

“How is it?” she asked. 

“Perfection.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“It’s… quite good.”

“So it sucks. I knew it wasn’t like when you make it.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’ll keep trying.” 

“Aranea, you needn’t do that. I appreciate the effort, but sometimes you must admit defeat. The kitchen is not your friend, I’m afraid.” 

Ignis smiled like he knew something funny about her that she didn’t. Aranea noted how he had a habit of doing that. 

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve been told I don’t know when to quit,” she said, and stomped back to her small kitchen. 

“I can at least come show you,” Ignis said. 

“No. You’re supposed to stay resting for another couple of days. Doctor’s orders.” 

“I’m feeling much better.” 

“Astrals, you’re stubborn. Is he always like this?” Aranea said, rolling her eyes toward Prompto, who was reading a celebrity magazine of hers with great interest. 

“Iggy doesn’t do bed rest. Not even the man flu could take him down,” Prompto said without lifting his eyes. “This mag is like some weird time warp…” 

“Huh? Shit, the milk’s gone off. I’m going to pop out for more. I can’t stand my coffee black. Need anything?” 

“Chips?” Prompto said. 

“A stiff drink,” Ignis added through gritted teeth. “It’s the best kind of pain reliever.” 

“Milk, chips, and whiskey. We’re having quite the party tonight,” Aranea said, as she put her boots and jacket on. “Be back in a jiffy.” 

The moment the door shut, Prompto popped off the couch and sat on the bed next to Ignis, showing him the magazine. 

“Seriously, dude, this singer isn’t even alive anymore! And here he is, giving an interview like everything’s fine.” 

“Everything _is_ fine. He’s probably on top of the world, at the height of his fame.”

“So scary, how suddenly things can change…” That earned Prompto a look from Ignis. “Dude, so what’s the plan?” 

“The plan?”

“To get to Insomnia.”

“I already told you what Luna and I spoke about.”

“Yeah, but what happens next?” 

Ignis rubbed his brows. 

“I need to find Ardyn.” 

“Ardyn? That creepy Chancellor?”

“He promised to secure papers for me.” 

“Oh. Guess he’s not so bad after all,” Prompto shrugged. 

“He’s the devil.” 

“Okay… I assume you’re not going to tell me why, and it’s better if I don’t know?”

“You read my mind.”

“So how are you supposed to find him?”

“He promised to bring the papers to Academy Weaponry, the shop where Aranea works. It should be about time. I need to get back to the shop for a shift. You must help me convince Aranea that I don’t need further rest.” 

“I’ll try my best, but you probably do...”

“We can’t keep stalling.”

“I know. Hey, Iggy? Are you okay? You’ve been a bit off since Tenebrae, especially since Luna did that weird light thing to you.” 

“I prefer not to talk about it.”

“Yeah, no prob. But if you change your mind—”

“I will let you know. Thank you for your concern, Prompto.”

“Hey, I just thought of something. Is Ardyn bringing papers only for you? What am I supposed to do?”

Ignis chuckled to himself. He didn’t believe in fate, but it sure had a funny way of existing at times. 

“I asked Ardyn for two sets,” he said. “I suppose I thought it was for me and Aranea, even though that would have been inadvisable.”

“Nice!” Prompto bounced on the bed, but then stopped as he realized what this meant. “So we’re gonna have to say goodbye to Aranea soon, eh?” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Aw, man. I really like her. The three of us make a good team together.”

“We certainly do. But I have already played with fire for far too long. I only hope she can forget about me till we meet in her own timeline.” 

“You think that’ll work?”

“We’ve only spent a couple of weeks together. In a few days’ time, we’ll be gone and she can move on with her life. I’m certain there will be plenty of other _experiences_ to distract her over the years.” 

He didn’t mean to sound bitter. He had always accepted that Aranea had a past, and he didn’t need to know much about it. If she didn’t feel like sharing, then he didn’t ask. Part of it was respect; he could sense that there were things she wasn’t proud of, and prying would only anger her. 

But this felt different, now that he knew the younger Aranea. The thought of someone else touching her—well, it was best not to venture there. 

—

“That will be 25 gil, please,” the woman at the supermarket said. Aranea pulled out some money, but she was 5 gil short. She checked her pockets, but came out empty. 

“Shit, sorry but—” 

“I got this.”

Calvis’ hand slammed the remaining 5 gil on the counter. 

“Calvis, hi,” Aranea said. “You don’t have to do that, I could just leave the chips—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” 

“Um, sure. Thanks.”

Aranea gathered her rather odd collection of goods. 

“Quite the party snacks,” Calvis said. “Want to walk together?”

“Why not.”

They made their way down the street in awkward silence. Aranea wondered if she should be apologizing for how they left things, when she realized she never even checked in on Calvis after the attack on Tenebrae. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “Were you okay in Tenebrae?”

“Wow, you finally thought about me,” he said. “I got lucky. Not a scratch.” 

“Good. I would have looked for you, but—”

“It’s fine. I’m clearly not top of mind.”

“It’s just that Ignis got badly hurt.”

“But I guess he pulled through? Just my luck.” Calvis laughed, though it didn’t seem cruel. “Are you two still dancing around the issue?”

“What issue?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ara. You know there’s something going on there.”

“There isn’t anything. We’re just friends.” 

“Sure. Just friends. Look, it’s bad enough that I lost out on my chance with you. I really liked you, you know. But do me a favor, Ara. At least don’t make my loss be for nothing. Go and do what makes you happy.” 

Aranea stopped. She didn’t know what to say, except she wanted more advice. She had so few friends to talk to about these things. 

“I’m not good at knowing what makes me happy, Cal. I don’t know how to do this kind of stuff.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, but…” Calvis sighed. “Maybe just try getting closer to him. Kiss him, or something. Isn’t that how you knew you didn’t like me in that way?” 

“I liked you, Cal.” 

“Maybe—but not enough. And that’s fine. Hey, I already got some girl’s number in Tenebrae. We’ve been texting.” 

Aranea wondered if she should feel jealous, but she didn’t. If anything, she felt relieved. 

“I’m glad. You deserve someone nice. I better go. Thanks for the 5 gil, Cal.”

“No problem.”

They parted ways, but then Calvis called after her. 

“Hey Ara, just remember: Go for it. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I find out he’s secretly married.”

—

The glass wasn’t empty for long before Aranea filled it up again. 

“You’re going to get me drunk,” Ignis slurred. 

“You’re feeling better from it, aren’t you?” Aranea replied. 

“I won’t if I have too much.” 

“So… no more?”

Ignis considered the glass in his hand. “Maybe just the one.” 

She filled it to the rim. 

“There, after this you’re cut off. Now scooch over.”

Ignis made space for her on the bed. She had been sleeping on the couch, and Prompto made himself something resembling a fort with the remaining cushions, the coffee table, and some bed sheets. He was softly snoring under his creation. 

“I gotta ask you something,” Aranea continued. “Are you remembering things? Ever since Tenebrae, and that visit from the Oracle, you’ve been a bit… down.”

“I’ve just been in pain.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. If you remembered something, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

She urged him with an expression that he somehow knew without having seen it. Perhaps it was in her voice. He hated lying to her. 

“I would tell you—but I haven’t been remembering anything specific.” 

Aranea seemed to accept his answer. 

“Guess what?” she piped up. “I saw Calvis at the store earlier today.”

“Oh?”

The name made his skin crawl. Aranea’s eyes bore into him, as if she was searching for such a reaction. 

“I was a bit short, and he helped pay. He came out of the attack unscathed.” 

“What a relief. How did you feel about seeing him?” 

“It was fine. But I think we’re better off as friends…” 

Oh no. Ignis could read between the lines, and it was going into dangerous territory. He was risking enough by spending so much time with Aranea, but if it were to get physical—

It would be very complicated. First of all, he needed her to forget about him eventually, not get more attached. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about being intimate with the younger Aranea to begin with, even if she was the same person he fell in love with. 

And yet, the thought of her having feelings for him… 

He panicked. He allowed his glass to fall out of his hand, whiskey spilling all over the floor and the glass rolling into Prompto’s fort. 

Prompto stirred and Ignis began apologizing profusely. 

“It’s okay,” Aranea said. “I got it.” 

Ignis watched guiltily as she cleaned up. 

“I better stop,” he said. “Clearly, I’ve had one too many.” 

“Right. Fun’s over. I’ve got work in the morning anyway.” 

Ignis sat a bit taller in bed, doing his best not to show any signs of pain. 

“Yes, about that. Any chance I can come in for a few hours tomorrow? I could use the gil.” 

Aranea looked him up and down, sussing out his health. 

“Hmm. I guess a couple of hours wouldn’t be that bad. I can have you polishing weapons so you at least stay seated.” 

“That would be perfect.” 

“Sure. We’ll go in together in the morning then.” Aranea put the fallen glass away and fell onto the couch. “Good night, Ignis.” 

“Good night, Aranea.” 

She sounded a bit dejected, he could tell. He felt awful, but he had no other choice. And the worst part was, Ignis worried he was only going to hurt her more when he disappeared. 

Not that his own Aranea hadn’t hurt him in the past. But they both had their reasons. 

—

It was too much for her. Ignis had been as patient as he could be, but it was still too much for her. She wanted space. 

He wasn’t surprised. He had chosen to believe that he could get to her the way she had gotten to him—though he knew better. He tried his best to keep his feelings in check and, for a time, he could ride out their casual arrangement. But she was getting under his skin since day one, and he was in deeper than he ever allowed himself to admit. And now, she was everywhere in his world. 

Once, it had revolved around Noctis. And Noctis was still his central purpose, of course. That, he would never shake. But now, Aranea surrounded the periphery. Everywhere he went and everything he did, there she was at the edges of his thoughts. 

What is he going to make for dinner for the guys? Fish? Aranea liked seafood. 

What will happen when Noctis comes back? Will Aranea be there too? Will she join their fight? 

He went to bed at night still feeling her on his fingertips, however long it had been since he touched her. 

Since the last time he touched her… 

And then she was gone, slipping rather suddenly out in the middle of the night from her own small Lestallum apartment. She left only a note for him—he couldn’t even read it. Gladio had to help him. 

She was sorry. She knew she had lead him on. She hoped he can forgive her and maybe, one day, they could be friends. But for now, she thought it best that they didn’t see one another. She was going to make it easier by taking on a long mission. 

“Better to go cold turkey, right?” she had written with a winky face. A damn winky face. 

He grabbed the note from Gladio and crumpled it, then left the room without a word. Gladio probably thought he was angry. But he just didn’t want anyone seeing the tears in his eyes. 

—

The memories of this time apart had a way of stinging years later, even after the reassurance of the life they had built together. It wasn’t because Ignis was angry at Aranea for getting scared—it was because her absence had hurt so much. Far more than he expected. 

He was used to her coming and going; that was the nature of her job. He was frequently away on missions too. But there was always the promise of seeing her again, and that was enough for Ignis. Without that reassurance, however, he spiraled. 

And now that he found himself thrust out of his timeline and facing the possibility of Aranea no longer being in that world at all, he was finding his grip on reality loosening. 

The younger Aranea was the only anchor he had. And he was about to let her go. 

—

“Are you sure you’ll be fine staying here?” Aranea asked, finishing off her morning coffee. Ignis had gotten up before her to make it this time. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Prompto answered. 

“I’ll leave you the spare key, in case you want to get out.” 

“After Tenebrae, I feel like I could rest in my fort for days.” 

“Okay, suit yourself. But here’s the key anyway.”

Aranea kept wondering if she had gone crazy. She was leaving a near-stranger—and possibly a spy—in her room all by himself while she went to work. But then again, there wasn’t much intelligence for Prompto to glean from her. 

“Thanks again for letting me crash here,” Prompto said. “I don’t know what I would have done. Ignis sure got lucky finding you.” 

“Yeah, guess he did,” she said, glancing toward the bathroom door. Ignis was inside, and she could hear the shower running. 

“Who knows. Maybe we’ll figure things out soon and get out of your hair.” 

Aranea looked at Prompto quizzically. 

“What exactly do you hope to figure out?” 

“Oh, you know. Just remembering things. Finding a way back to wherever we belong.”

“Right…”

Aranea looked at her empty coffee mug. Deep down, she knew her new companions weren’t going to be around forever, but the thought of them leaving left a heavy sensation in her chest. 

“What’s wrong, Aranea?” 

“Nothing. Just don’t forget about me, okay? You guys definitely owe me for all the help.” 

“No problem there from me! And I doubt Iggy will ever forget about you.” 

She nodded. 

“Aranea, are you sure you’re okay?” 

Aranea wanted to say something. She wanted to explain how Ignis spilled his drink on purpose—or maybe she was just reading too far into it—but either way, it left her unsure of his feelings. She wanted to tell Prompto about staying with Ignis that night in the hospital, and how she had caught herself staring at the pattern of freckles on his face when he fell asleep. 

She wanted to talk through whatever it was that she was feeling—but she couldn’t manage the words. 

“I’m fine,” she shrugged. “Just don’t feel like going back to work yet.” 

She grabbed her mug and washed it vigorously, hearing the shower shut off in the bathroom. Ignis was probably getting out, dripping wet and naked. She didn’t want to picture it, but she was. He was so tall and lean, his shoulders broad. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. 

“I just wish I knew what to say,” she whispered. 

“What was that?” Prompto asked. 

“Nothing. Make sure you keep out of trouble, okay?”

“Sure thing, Lady A!”

Lady A. She liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to bring Calvis back. I felt like he needed some closure. He's not so bad, after all. So thank you, Calvis, for giving Ignis a reason to get all adorably jelly. Now begone. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Ignis is faced with the harsh reality of saying goodbye to Aranea. But Aranea has plans of her own...


	15. Heating Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn makes another appearance. Ignis takes Aranea out on a date... or, on a goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. This took WAAAAAY too long. I'm sorry!! But please know that I really appreciate my readers who are still sticking around. I love you all. 
> 
> Also, RIP Aranea DLC. We'll just have to write a heck of a lot more fics for our queen!

“You’re insane.”

“For wanting to hold your hand in public?”

“Yeah. That’s asking for a hell of a lot.” 

“Come now, Aranea, it’s only a hand.” 

Only a hand. Ignis knew he was pushing his luck, but he was feeling worn down. 

“I always let you hold my arm,” Aranea said. 

“That’s only because you’re helping to guide me. ”

“Yeah, and you don’t even need it anymore.”

“Other people don’t know that.”

Aranea stopped walking and turned to Ignis, putting her hands on his shoulders so he would know she was speaking directly to him. Very directly. 

“So what you’re actually saying is that you want _other_ people to know we’re holding hands.” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

Ignis let out a long, controlled breath. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Why can’t it just be between us?”

Because. 

Because that would never be enough. 

—

Ignis devoted himself completely and fully in his duty to Noctis. He served Lucis with his every breath. Aranea had been no different—even if she had pushed back for years. Eventually, she let him in, and Ignis poured all of his devotion on her. 

But how was he to devote himself when there were two Araneas? 

“How much for the broadsword?”

Ignis blinked and looked up at the petite blonde customer on the other side of the counter. 

“Pardon me?” he said. 

“The broadsword… how much is it?” she repeated. “I know I’m small, but I swear, I can handle it.” 

“Right, of course. It’s 5,000 gil.” 

“Oh man… Guess I’m living off Cup Noodles for the next few months.” 

Ignis processed the payment and prepared the weapon in a case. He was surprised when the tiny customer took it without struggle. 

“Use it well, and best of luck.” 

“Thanks, dude!” 

It still felt strange, selling weapons to Niflheim’s future soldiers. This broadsword may very well be killing Glaives in one of the many battles he knew would come in the future, held by a small but no doubt vicious young woman. It could be present in Insomnia the day the city will fall, playing its own small part in the demise of Ignis’ beloved home. And yet here he was, selling the weapon with a smile. 

The shop was quiet, so Ignis went about polishing weapons and ensuring that the displays were presented optimally. He was still in pain, but it was bearable. Aranea was in the back, organizing a new shipment of inventory. She insisted he stay on the shop floor while she did the heavy lifting. Naturally. 

Ignis ran a cloth over a dagger, watching his reflection on its pristine surface. He could barely recognize himself anymore; it made him sad. 

“Running the show all alone today?” a familiar voice said. 

Ignis looked up from the dagger to find Ardyn walking toward him with his usual swagger. It still sent chills down Ignis’ spine. 

“Ardyn. What a surprise.” 

“Is it? I thought you had been expecting me… with these.” 

Two envelopes landed in front of Ignis. He didn’t have to open them to know what they were. 

“Two permits to leave Niflheim, along with two train tickets. As promised.” 

The air was thinning in the shop. This is exactly what Ignis had been working toward, but somehow, it seemed so finite now. He would be leaving Gralea. He would be leaving this Aranea. 

“Well? No word of thanks?” 

“Uh… thank you,” Ignis muttered. 

“That wasn’t very convincing.” 

“I’m afraid I have some complicated feelings. But in all earnesty, thank you for the assistance.”

It still nauseated Ignis to be thanking Ardyn, considering everything that would come to pass. But there were worse prices to pay. 

“Well, then—I hope you find your way back home,” Ardyn said. “Perhaps next time we meet, it will not be so cordial, but rest assured: I won’t be telling your younger counterpart a thing.” 

Ignis felt confident that Ardyn was being sincere. Then again, Ignis had his sight and so Ardyn had no reason to question it—no reason to suspect the incident with the ring. 

“I will bid you _adieu_ until then. Good luck getting to Lucis,” Ardyn said as he turned on his heels and walked out the door. 

Aranea emerged from the back just as Ignis pocketed the envelopes. 

“How are you doing out here?” she asked. “Any weirdos?”

“Just one.” 

“Ugh. Thanks for handling that. I don’t have much patience for them.” 

“Merely a hazard of the job.” 

—

They walked back to Aranea’s apartment in silence. Aranea seemed to want to say something—or ask something—and Ignis wanted to take her hand, like in his memories. But they were at a stalemate. They picked up ingredients for dinner, and continued their wordless walk until Ignis couldn’t help himself anymore. 

“Aranea, I’m wondering. Would you like to go somewhere on your next day off?” 

“What, you mean like hang out?” 

“Yes.”

“With Prompto?”

“I was thinking perhaps just the two of us.”

“Oh. So, is this like a date?” Aranea asked cautiously. 

Ignis swallowed hard. Was he actually asking her out? No, it was more like a final goodbye. 

“A date, yes.” 

She looked like she was trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” She let the smile loose, and he nearly melted. 

Then he was hit with guilt. Guilt over going on a date with the younger Aranea and then leaving her. Guilt over his own Aranea suffering in his timeline. Guilt over how much he wanted to do this one last thing with her, even though it was entirely selfish. 

He should stop it now. But he knew he wouldn't. 

—

Prompto was being quite the romantic, though it hardly took Ignis by surprise. He helped plan the perfect date that Ignis could take Aranea out on, but it wasn’t the first time the younger man had done this. He would play matchmaker for the two of them time and time again. 

“She’ll want to keep it simple, or else she’d get embarrassed. But she’s got a romantic side at the same time,” Prompto said. “We don’t have much of a kitchen to work with, so cooking for her is tricky. But you know what she likes, so you could pick up her favorite guilty pleasures.”

Aranea only watched her diet so much, but Ignis knew she liked to exercise a sense of self-control. However, she always did love an excuse to be a little naughty. 

“Then you should take her somewhere simple and relaxing, but with a great view.” 

Ignis had just the spot. The older Aranea had told him about a hot spring in the mountains surrounding Gralea. It was just a short train ride out, and then a half-hour hike. She explained how she would go there to think whenever her dealings with the Empire felt too overwhelming. Interestingly, she never could tell Ignis how she discovered the hot spring in the first place. 

“I know just where to take her.” 

“Awesome! Hey, Iggy? Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“I think it’s great that you want to take her out and all, but… what exactly are you hoping will happen?”

“I…”

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to transgress any physical boundaries; he just wanted to spend the time with her. But what did he really hope to get out of this? 

“I suppose it’s my way of saying goodbye.” 

—

The hot water ran over Aranea’s body in the shower. Her stomach was in knots. In some ways, she was far more nervous than before her fight at the Academy Brawl. It was just a date—nothing she hasn’t done before. If anything, she’d had accidental dates with Ignis on a few occasions now. It was just never actually labeled as one before. 

The razor slipped out of her hand and she cursed, then swiftly picked it back up as she squeezed more shower gel on her legs, awkwardly angling herself so that the running water didn’t wash it off. 

She shouldn’t even be bothering with shaving her legs. It’s not like she was going to let him touch them. Still, she shaved the lower half first, thought about it, then applied shower gel to the top half too. Then to her bikini line. And before she knew it, she had gone in closer and closer until her lips were smooth and bare, with only a discreet strip left. 

She cringed. Maybe it was too much? No, she liked it that way. But there was no point, because nothing was going to happen. She put on her nicest moisturizer anyway, the one that smelled of amber and vanilla. 

Aranea chose a comfortable but subtly sexy outfit. Ignis had told her there would be a bit of walking, so she stuck with leather pants and mid-heeled boots, but paired it with a sleeveless, high-neck top with an open back. It was her first-date top. On the front, it looked discreet while accentuating her breasts. But when she turned around, it showed off her toned back and the fact that she definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. She threw a leather jacket over it, and hoped that the weather had turned warm enough by now so that she had an excuse to take it off later. 

Ignis was already waiting for her in the kitchen, packing a few items away, when she emerged from the bathroom. Prompto had disappeared under the guise of exploring the city, but she assumed it was just to make it less awkward. 

She looked at Ignis and her heart skipped a beat. 

He must have picked up a new shirt—a dark grey with darker pin stripes—and it accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist perfectly. He styled his hair back, allowing it to casually swoop over his head. She noted how good he smelled, even standing a few feet away from him. 

“You look beautiful,” Ignis said. 

“Not so bad yourself.”

“Are you ready then?”

“Let’s do it.” She coughed. “And by ‘it,’ I just meant the date.” 

She thought she saw his cheeks go red. 

“Right this way then,” he said, opening the door for her. 

“Yes, that is the only exit after all,” she laughed. 

“We could go via the window if you prefer. We have gotten quite skilled at falling off of buildings, after all.”

“As exhilarating as that was, let’s not do anything stupid tonight.”

“No, let’s not.”

—

Unlike their earlier walk, they rode in a comfortable silence while taking the train—as if they’ve known one another all of their lives. For Ignis, that was somewhat true; Aranea, however, couldn’t help but smile to herself at the oddness of it. 

“We’re almost there. Next stop,” Ignis said. 

“I’m excited to see where you’re taking me.”

They exited the train station side by side, hands accidentally grazing every now and then, as the first signs of evening settled in. It was getting dark later now, the cool weather carrying a promising balminess. 

“Just a brief hike first,” Ignis said, motioning toward a path just outside the small, rural station. 

“If I’d known we’d be doing something so active, I wouldn’t have worn these boots,” Aranea said. 

Ignis eyed her black leather-clad feet. They weren’t as tall as he was used to seeing her in, but they still weren’t exactly made for hiking. 

“I did say there would be walking.” 

“Walking—not hiking. It’s okay. But if the heel snaps, it’s coming out of your paycheck.” 

The path was easy enough, just a slightly inclined route up a gravelly road along the mountainside. They weren’t going anywhere near the top, and the train had already taken them up above the twinkling lights of Gralea. As they arrived at the entrance to the springs, Aranea stopped to take in the city below at a photo spot. 

“Will you look at that…” She sighed. “Sure looks pretty when the sun’s going down. Less… grim.”

Ignis stepped next to her. “Quite surprising.”

They watched as the sun touched the horizon. In an easy and spontaneous movement, their fingers intertwined for a brief moment, giving a reassuring squeeze before letting go. 

“It’s time for our booking,” Ignis said. “Shall we?” 

—

They had an hour-long session in a hot spring tub booked, complete with a bottle of sparkling wine and a plate of sushi. Ignis had thought of everything—almost everything. 

The one thing he hadn’t thought of was that the hot springs were meant to be enjoyed without the confines of fabrics. 

In other words, nude. 

More specifically, they didn’t allow clothing at all due to possible contaminants. He didn’t know how he managed to overlook such an important detail. Maybe he was still foggy from his memory issues—or perhaps he _wanted_ to overlook that detail. 

Ignis stood awkwardly as the receptionist gave them instructions to leave their clothing in the lockers. Aranea merely shrugged and grabbed the bathrobe and towel. 

“See you on the other side,” she said, walking into the women’s changing room. 

Ignis took a moment to collect himself and went off to the men’s, where he partook in a solid 10 minutes of addressing himself in the mirror. He could do this, there was nothing scary here whatsoever, he’s been around a naked Aranea a thousand times. 

Well, except he couldn’t normally see her—and she was usually from his proper timeline. 

Ignis removed his clothes and put on the bathrobe, then stepped outside to the tubs. They were the sizes of large baths, separated into private sections surrounded by heavy, velvet curtains. Ignis found the one they were assigned and stepped through the curtains. 

Aranea was already there, bathrobe on as she looked out over the city by the balcony railing. 

“Thought you weren’t going to make it,” she said. “Took you awhile.”

“I was…” 

He couldn’t even think of an excuse. 

“Didn’t expect the dress code?” she teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll close my eyes till you get in.” 

She gestured to the tub and looked back out over the last of the setting sun. Ignis breathed in and out, then took off his robe. For the first time in a decade, he felt that initial mix of trepidation and excitement at being naked around Aranea. 

His muscles clenched at the cool air, and he eased himself into the tub. It burned, but not unpleasantly—not like that time he put the ring on. That was a different kind of burning he wished he could forget. 

“I’m in.” 

Aranea turned around and went to stand near the edge of the tub. She kept her eyes anywhere but on him. 

“How’s the water?” she asked. Her bathrobe slid off her shoulder. 

“Hot.” 

“Good.” 

She slipped a leg between the opening of her bathrobe and dipped a foot into the water to acclimatize, then stepped in. She sat on the edge, careful not to get the bathrobe into the water. 

“Are you going to look away, or oggle me while I take this robe off?”

“I—my apologies.”

Ignis made a show of covering his eyes and looking away. He heard the robe drop to the ground, the water making gentle sounds as Aranea got in. It didn’t matter much. He had 10 years of imagining what she looked like based on these tiny sounds and movements. He may as well have been staring straight at her. 

And yet… 

“Coast is clear,” she said. 

Ignis looked back at Aranea. The lighting was soft and somber, the water in the hot tub murky, and yet he could just make out the swell of her breasts under the surface. 

Her lips curled into the slightest smile. It was as if, somehow, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Though it probably wasn’t difficult—his thoughts had gone to their most basic place. 

Astrals, she was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The date continues next chapter :D :D :D :D 
> 
> Please let me know if you're still following this by the way!


	16. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis reveals a big secret to Aranea, and Aranea makes a game-changing discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Ignis and Aranea's date doesn't exactly go the way you may have been expecting... But there are some juicy reveals, and we're leading up to a scene I've been dying to write in the following chapter. So I'm excited! Please be excited too!

The first time Ignis ever touched Aranea skin-to-skin was when she had asked him to dance in Lestallum. It was just a moment, a few seconds when his hand landed on the small of her back, only to realize her dress was backless. The feeling of her sweat-covered skin under his fingers sent a shock through him. 

He had reasoned that it was because of his loss of sight—his senses were surely still heightened. But he knew. Oh, he knew. 

After that night, his mind was overtaken with thoughts of Aranea dancing, Aranea in his arms, Aranea naked. He felt some sort of entitlement to these images, considering that they were all he felt he could have now. He was safe with them; no one ever had to know. 

And then, that night in the tent happened. Ignis was stripped bare of every wall his blindness had made, and Aranea was relentless in tearing them down. She was relentless in other ways too, pressing herself against him with a thirst he hadn’t expected—like if she didn’t have him then and there, she would lose her mind. Ignis couldn’t remember ever being desired quite like that. 

The feelings were entirely mutual. 

—

The younger Aranea sat across from Ignis in the hot spring tub, and he thanked his lucky stars at the sight of her. He didn’t want to dwell on all the years he had to miss this—he wouldn’t. What he had experienced was in no way any less vivid. Still, he couldn’t deny an aching desire that was finally being fulfilled. 

“You okay?” Aranea asked. “You’re looking a little over-heated.”

He was, but not from the hot spring. “I simply didn’t account for the dress code. I’m a little embarrassed.” 

“I wouldn’t have gone along with it if I didn’t want to.” 

Aranea waded over in the tub so that she was settled right next to Ignis, their arms touching. She reached over to a small table just behind them and poured two glasses of the sparkling wine that had been set up. 

“Liquid courage?” she asked. 

“Courage for what exactly?” 

“I don’t know. Being naked together?”

“You’re right—it is somewhat terrifying.” Ignis took a glass and drained it. Aranea refilled it right away. 

“Can’t say I usually have this effect on people,” she said. 

“I assure you that you do.” 

“No way. I’m not the kind of girl that makes people nervous.”

Ignis knew just how nervous she made everyone. At the same time, he found her lack of awareness endearing. 

“Believe me, Aranea, you are far more powerful than you believe.” 

Ignis clinked their glasses, and Aranea gave him one of those heart-melting smirks. 

“So…” she said after a pause, “I’m curious. What made you ask me on this date now?” 

“I suppose it felt right. We’ve been through a lot recently.” 

“We have. And I’m glad you asked me. I was kind of hoping you would even back in Tenebrae…” 

“The Lucians had other ideas.” Ignis felt strange referring to his own people in such a disconnected way, but it wasn’t the time to dwell. 

“Yeah… They really put a damper on the mood, eh?” 

“Let’s not focus on that,” Ignis said quickly. 

“You’re right. We survived; that’s all that matters.” 

Ignis felt a hand graze his thigh. It settled there, touching him lightly. He allowed his hand to float down to Aranea’s and interlaced her fingers. 

He wanted to kiss her. He really did. He wanted to do so much more. But just as he was about to turn and face her, he realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to, because at the end of the day, he wasn’t being honest about who he was—and he could never do that. 

Just as he reached this resolve, Aranea put a hand on his face, turning it toward hers and pulling him in. Their lips just barely grazed as Ignis realized what was happening and drew back. 

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a whisper. 

“What?”

“We shouldn’t—not like this.”

“Not like what? What’s going on, Ignis?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You ask me on date. We are sitting—naked—in a hot tub, drinking wine. You’re telling me how amazing I am. And you won’t kiss me?” She let out an incredulous laugh. “Don’t tell me nothing’s going on.” 

“I know it must be very confusing, but you need to trust me—”

“Trust you? I’m sorry, Ignis, but that is dropping pretty low on the list of feelings I have right now.” Aranea stood abruptly, her body fully exposed. “You know what? I’m not sorry. If you don’t want me, that’s fine. But don’t you dare fucking lead me on.”

She stepped out of the tub and grabbed her bathrobe, then headed for the exit. Ignis hopped out of the tub and ran around to stop her; all thoughts of modesty were out the window. 

He stood in front of her, stark naked. She held her bathrobe against herself, but it only shielded so much. They were naked, inches away from one another, and yet never felt further apart. This was not how Ignis had expected this night to go. 

“I know you’ve probably had enough of how vague I’ve been,” Ignis said. 

“That would be an understatement—”

“—but I need you to know this. You are the most incredible woman I have ever known. You are strong, and smart, and unstoppable. I am in awe of you.”

“So what happened, you saw me naked and went running for the hills? Don’t like what you see?”

“Astrals, no. I didn’t need to see you naked to know how beautiful you are.” 

“Then how about this, Ignis. Try telling me the full story for once.” 

Before Ignis could think it over, before he could come up with a better excuse, he found the words tumbling out: “I’m married.” 

He wanted to add “to you, in the future.” He wanted to come clean, finally explain it all, but he stopped himself just in time. 

“Married?” Aranea’s cheeks turned red. “You’re married?” She hugged the bathrobe closer. 

“I…”

“What? You forgot or something?”

Of course. There it was, the perfect alibi. 

“Yes. I couldn’t remember so many things about my past, but when I found Prompto, a lot of it came back.”

“So the first thing you did was invite me on a date?”

“It’s not so simple.” 

“No, it is that simple. You don’t suddenly remember that you’re married and then ask some other girl on a date, Ignis! You just fucking don’t.” Aranea’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m getting dressed.” 

She pushed past him, and he didn’t stop her. He just breathed through the tightness in his throat. 

He really screwed up this time. 

—

They rode the train back to Gralea in icy silence. When they got back to Aranea’s place, she gave Prompto the cold shoulder too—he had been an accomplice, after all. 

“I want you both gone by morning,” Aranea said. “If I wake up and see either of you here, I will murder you.” 

And, oh, she meant it. 

It took one look from Ignis to let Prompto know not to ask any questions, so Prompto did what he was best at in these situations; he poured Ignis a drink. He poured one for Aranea too and left it on a table near her bed, where she was now lying with her back to them. He didn’t see when she drank it, but the glass became empty at some point. 

Prompto and Ignis went to sleep without a word, but they knew what was next. There was no point in waiting any longer; they would be off to Lucis in the morning. 

—

She had been pretending to sleep for hours, but Aranea couldn’t shut her mind off. The slow breathing coming from Prompto and Ignis assured her that they were somehow getting a bit of shut-eye, and she raged inside at the injustice of it. 

He screws with her, and he gets to sleep soundly? How dare he. How fucking dare he. 

Aranea was determined to keep her back to them, facing the wall in protest, but she was getting sore in that position. And, well, she was angry. She threw the blanket off and sat up. Maybe Prompto had the right idea with the drinks. 

She grabbed her empty glass and headed toward the kitchen. As she fumbled for the bottle of whiskey in the dark, she knocked something off the countertop. 

It was Ignis’ coat. She wanted to leave it on the floor, maybe step on it or kick it across the room. She wanted to so badly—but she couldn’t. 

Because as much as she was angry with him, she was more hurt than anything. It was never going to end well, was it? 

She poured herself a drink and downed it, then poured another. But after the sweet, burning sensation calmed her a little, she picked up his coat and placed it back on the counter. She saw something fall from it from the corner of her eye. 

It was an envelope. 

Aranea wasn’t usually one for invading someone’s privacy, but Ignis had lost more than just her trust this night. So she opened it. 

In the dim light, she could just barely make out the contents: a permit to leave Niflheim, and a train ticket to Lucis. 

Two things that were nearly impossible to get unless someone was a high-ranking official. Or a spy. 

A spy. 

She checked his coat pocket and, sure enough, found a second set. There it was; her definitive proof. Both Ignis and Prompto were Lucian spies. 

All of the vague excuses, the so-called forgotten memories—they were all lies. Was he even married? Or did he just string her along too far and couldn’t blow his cover? Why had they even used her like this? Perhaps their cover was in jeopardy and they needed to lay low somewhere that no one would look. What better spot than with an unassuming student? 

Aranea placed the envelopes back in the coat pocket and returned to her bed, a million thoughts racing through her mind. Should she be turning them in to the army? 

It had all felt so real to her, both her friendship with Prompto and whatever was happening between her and Ignis. Yes, she should probably report them. And yet… 

Her eyes were getting heavy, the whiskey going straight to her head. She gave in to the warm, enveloping arms of the drink, sinking deep into her bed as her mind finally grew silent. There would be time tomorrow to formulate a plan. 

—

Her head was pounding. A ray of sunlight had inched its way onto her face and directly on her eyelid till she could ignore it no longer. Aranea blinked her eyes open, groaned, and turned toward the wall. And then everything from the night before came flooding back. 

She shot upright and surveyed the room: It was empty. No Ignis, no Prompto, and none of their belongings. It was like they had never even been there. 

Shit. 

Aranea looked out the window, though she knew they were probably long gone. She looked for anything they may have left behind, and that’s when she saw a note on the kitchen counter. She unfolded it. 

_My dearest Aranea,_

_I don’t expect you to forgive me. I may not see you for a long while, but I promise that the next time we meet, you will understand everything. I will think of you always._

_– Ignis_

She couldn’t help it. She felt the tears coming, the tightness in her throat, and a scream she could hardly contain. She let it out—let it ring across Gralea in all its frustration and anger and hurt. 

—

Everything was going smoothly. Ignis and Prompto sat on the platform, waiting for their train to arrive. The permits and tickets worked; they had gotten through security without any questions. Ardyn must have put a very high ranking on their permits. 

“You okay, man?” Prompto asked again. 

Ignis had tried to look neutral, but apparently his neutral face was very concerning for Prompto. 

“As I said a thousand times before, I am fine.” 

“Okay, just making sure.”

“You don’t need to do so every 10 minutes, Prompto.” 

“No problemo! I’ll zip it.” 

“That’s what you said 10 minutes ago.” 

The truth was, Ignis was breaking inside. He hated the thought of Aranea waking up in the morning and finding them gone, with only more questions than answers. But he knew he had dug himself in too deep, and this was truly for the best. Even Prompto had agreed. Better get out now, before it gets any messier. 

Ignis excused himself and walked over to a kiosk to buy a can of Ebony. As he drank it, his hand snaked into his inner pocket and pulled out the photo of Aranea and Lucie. He studied their features closely. 

It was time to go home. 

—

The street below was getting busy, but Aranea felt no need to join the drones of people in their senseless tasks on this early spring day. It was lovely out, sunny and warmer than it had been in months. But she just felt cold. 

She was all out of tears—and whiskey. She hadn’t figured out what to do yet. It was easier to feel angry, or to cry. But now that she had reached some level of catharsis, her thoughts went back to the big question she couldn’t seem to answer: Does she perform her civic duty and turn them in before it’s too late, or does she let them go? 

If she gave them up, they would be arrested and tried. Worst case, they would get the death penalty. Best case, they would become prisoners of war. And her? She would live with the blood on her hands for the rest of her life, without any reward. After all, she would only be making a phone call. They might even ask why she didn’t clue in earlier, even hiring Ignis to work in the shop. She could be seen as a laughing stock for how they used her these past several weeks. 

It was then that she thought of another option: She should be the one to catch them. If nothing else, she should at least get some sort of reward or recognition—even if it meant having blood on her hands. She felt so hurt and used—maybe they deserved it. 

Once the thought was planted, there was no stopping her. Aranea moved lightning-fast around her room, putting on black leather pants and a fitted top, and grabbing accessories and weapons. She didn’t know how much time she had till the next train to Lucis was leaving, but she sure as hell was going to get on it. 

Besides, she had a score to settle. And Aranea Highwind was never left empty-handed. 

—

Ignis and Prompto settled into their seats. They were still waiting to depart, but they felt relieved to be sitting on the train. It was finally happening; they were going to Lucis. 

Ignis pulled out his family photo again. 

“Don’t worry, Iggy,” Prompto said. “She’ll be fine. One day.”

“Not soon enough.”

“What else could you have done?”

“I still hate hurting her like this. I should have never spoken to her, Prompto. I should have let her live her life.” 

“Hey man, it’s okay. She’ll be fine. She’s fine in the future, right?” 

Ignis held his breath. He wasn’t sure she was fine in his timeline at all. He couldn’t say that though. Then it would be far too real. 

He wasn’t ready to face it. 

—

Aranea had discovered just how good at stealth she really was. Perhaps she was a true dragoon after all, a master of disguise. She had managed to sneak onto the roof of the train undetected and watched Ignis and Prompto boarding from her vantage point. She had them now. 

She would wait for the train to leave the station, laying low on the roof in the meantime. She had found a loose trap door, and she would enter when the time was right. 

And then, she would attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: A Big Thing Happens. 
> 
> I'm sorry there is no smut here. But there will be. Eventually. When the time is right. You'll see :)
> 
> (But I'll probably throw in some flashback smut, cause yaaaaaay smut!)
> 
> Also, what did you think of some of these reveals? And what do you think happens next??


End file.
